His Weakness
by ringaroundtherollins
Summary: Seth Rollins is ready to eliminate his former brothers in the Shield at long last. He turns to Bray Wyatt for help. Things go from bad to worse as Dean Ambrose fights for survival and Roman Reigns takes drastic measures to protect the person he loves more than anyone in the world. Rated T for language and violence. Features Ambreigns and implied Ambrollins.
1. Chapter 1

Seth couldn't lie. He was nervous.

He wasn't quite sure what to expect, requesting Bray Wyatt's presence following the taping of Raw in Denver, Colorado. But here he stood, center ring, alone, waiting, and a tad jumpy. Just hours ago, rambunctious fans were shouting at him, hissing, condemning him for his behavior. Meanwhile, praising so-called fighters like Roman Reigns and Dean fucking Ambrose for no good reason. Seth was sick of it. He couldn't stand his former brothers.

And finally, _finally_ , he had a plan to get rid of them. No more would the fans swoon over Roman's brawn or Dean's insanity that, for whatever reason, people found appealing. There would be only one name worth commending in the WWE. And that name was Seth Rollins.

First, though, he needed a little assistance. And assistance came to him in the form of a bearded, hefty gentleman by the name of Bray Wyatt. He appeared where most of the wrestlers would reveal themselves before a match (except Roman. The cocky bastard always wanted to be different and come out from a side door. How quirky.) Bray's gray eyes locked onto Seth, and he walked with power in his stride towards him. Seth felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed against it. _Chill. Just chill. You haven't done anything wrong. You're not asking for much here. He'll go for this_.

Seth offered a smile he hoped was convincing enough. "Mr. Wyatt," he greeted. "How are you doing?"

Bray hoisted himself onto the ring and over the ropes. He hadn't fought anyone tonight. He'd only appeared on the TitanTron during Roman's first match against Kofi Kingston since Money in the Bank, taunting Roman the way he had been for weeks now. Honestly, the act was a little irritating. If he wanted Roman so badly, why not _get_ him? But tonight's exploit had been what really cemented Seth's idea. He could give Bray anything—and everything—he wanted.

Bray ignored Seth's question. The sturdy wrestler made a steady approach. "What do you want, Rollins?" Bray asked, voice low yet firm. Seth felt a familiar tightness in his chest, the same inner strain he felt when Brock Lesnar was storming onto the ring to challenge him.

"I'll cut to the chase, Bray. Wouldn't want to waste your time. I've been watching you play mind games with Roman Reigns for a while now."

Bray's eyes seemed to lose all trace of a soul within him at the mention of Roman's name.

"I don't blame you. The guy's trouble. Always standing in the way, an inconvenience to all your hopes and dreams. What if I told you…I could give him to you? Put him right at your feet, to do to him whatever it is you feel you need to do?"

Bray grinned. It was chilling, a threatening little beam. _God, I'm glad I'm not Roman. I would_ not _want beef with this guy_.

"How exactly do you plan to do that?" Bray challenged. "It's not exactly easy getting to him…for most people." He leered, fully aware he was one of the few people who could get under Roman's skin.

"I'll strike a deal with you. You bring Dean Ambrose to me, and I _guarantee_ you'll get your hands on Roman Reigns."

A fluffy eyebrow arched. "Dean? How? Why?"

Seth grinned, delighted to answer that question. "You've done a number on Reigns so far. I applaud you for that. I respect you for that. But you haven't hit his pressure point _just_ yet. The nerve that would hurt the most if touched. A defect in the otherwise _flawless_ Roman Reigns."

Bray's nostrils, already quite large, flared. He seemed to get angrier the more Seth spoke that name. Seth hoped it would only entice him all the more to agree to this deal, instead of backfiring. Seth didn't want Bray losing control quite yet. "See, the minute Roman hears his boy Dean Ambrose is in trouble, he'll come running. Roman loves him. He wants to protect him. He wouldn't want anything to happen to his precious little Dean. He'll stroll in, thinking he's going to be the hero, but it'll really be you waiting for him. Then you can have your way with that son of a bitch."

Bray was quiet. Seth took that as a cue to continue.

"You and me, we're on the same side, man. We're going after the same thing in this life. Revenge. Taking back what's rightfully ours. You work with me, and you get that pain-in-the-ass Roman Reigns. The Big Dog will be nothing but a whining puppy when you're done with him."

Bray's face was blank for many moments. Seth was starting to doubt his plan, doubt himself, when Bray's lips suddenly uplifted into another frightening smile.

"All I need to do is bring Dean to you?"

"That's your only job. Then all you have to do is wait."

"You've got yourself a deal, Rollins." Bray took Seth's hand in a powerful grip and shook it with might. Seth chuckled on the outside, but the bones in his fingers screamed from the pain.

Bray released Seth's hand. "Great," Seth said, a new sense swelling inside him, charging his veins. Hope. Arrogance. "Here's all you need to know…"

* * *

 _Falling for him_?

Roman cupped his hands underneath the gentle trickle of the sink until they were full, then splashed the mountain water on his face, over his eyes. He rubbed the skin dry with a towel, then stared his own reflection down, hands gripping the sides of the little counter. The water continued spurting from the faucet. The hotel room was quiet otherwise, empty, but Roman's mind was alive and clamorous with thoughts.

He shook his head, the thin strands of his long hair gyrating around his face. _Impossible. There's no way. I'm not falling for him._

 _Am I?_

The thought had occurred to him for the very first time this evening. Many hours ago, during Raw, when Dean Ambrose was facing off against Sheamus, a rematch from the night Sheamus bailed in the middle of the fight and Randy Orton stepped into his path. He had faith in Dean in all of his matches, but tonight, witnessing the brutal attack from the Celtic Warrior, something was different. Not one speck of confidence was lost in Dean, but Roman caught himself prowling on the side, a wolf prowling the shadows, in case something went wrong. In case Dean couldn't take it. Especially when Sheamus used the Cloverleaf on Dean, one of his signature moves…Roman was convinced Dean was going to tap out, but he didn't give up. Roman couldn't remember the last time anyone _didn't_ tap out when Sheamus enfolded their body in that gruesome way…his opponent's face twisted in pain, pellets of sweat dotting his face, veins bulged and skin red…but Dean had held on. Before Dean made his escape—the announcers had called it _miraculous_ and _beyond belief_ —a thought had flashed in Roman's mind. A funny thought like lightning, striking into existence just for a moment, and disappearing just as quickly.

 _You're falling for him._

 _You're falling in love with Dean Ambrose_.

Sure, he cared about the guy. They were best friends. The media paired them as brotherly figures, especially after the creation (and eventual destruction) of the Shield. He'd do anything for Dean. Seeing him suffer like that _always_ sucked…

But did that mean he was in _love_ with him?

"Maybe I care too much," Roman said, his own voice surprising him. He splashed his face again, as though another cleansing would open up some clarity. But when he looked into his own eyes, all he could see was the truth. A wall of denial, a Jericho of rebuttal, with an army of trueness ready to knock it down.

Perhaps saying it out loud would help.

"I—I am." He cleared his throat. "I am… _not_ …falling in love with Dean."

 _You're a goddamn liar_. The voice again. The same voice that made the original accusation. It sounded an awful lot like…himself.

The voice had a point. _Now say it for real this time_ , it commanded him _. No tricks_.

"I…love him. I'm in love with Dean."

How easily it came. How natural it sounded. Like everything suddenly made sense. It was strange and unusual, but wonderful at the same time. Roman felt better. The confusion was gone. He liked it so much that he decided to say it again.

"I'm in love with—"

A key entered the slot on the door, and Dean pushed into the grand hotel room. They almost always shared a hotel room. It was cheaper that way. A common fact Roman never really reflected on before, but now he was suddenly and completely aware that he and Dean would be sleeping so close to each other tonight.

In a near-panic, embarrassed he'd almost been caught, Roman turned the water off. Dean poked his head into the bathroom. He was still dressed in his off-white undershirt and tight blue jeans from the match. His clothes were stained, his hair was messy, and sweat particles clung to his skin from face to feet. Roman still thought he looked pretty damn good.

 _Wow_ , he reproached himself. _Never looked at him so different. Just saying the words out loud changed everything._

"Hey," Dean said, arms grabbing hold of the doorway's edge.

"Hey," Roman echoed.

"Turns out the Miz is crashing two floors down. Wanna switch hotels?"

Roman chuckled. "I don't think that'll be necessary. If we hear him yammering at any point, we'll just go shut him up ourselves."

"How are you feeling?"

Roman's heart hammered. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know, physically. That Trouble In Paradise looked pretty nasty."

"Psh. Takes more than a simple kick to keep me down."

"Yeah. You knocked him down a peg or two." Dean shook his head, his brown locks shaking. "Might be time for the sun to set on the New Day. I'm getting sick of 'em."

"I hear ya." As interesting as this rush of emotions was, Roman couldn't help but pity them as strongly as he welcomed them. Certainly he was the only one in this state of mind, state of heart. There was such little chance that Dean possibly had these feelings, too. Even in the slimmest of slim chances he _did_ , what could they do about it? Nothing the media wouldn't rip wide open, expose for the world to see. People could turn on them. The WWE could drop them in a heartbeat.

"Hey." Dean's voice broke his thoughts, calmed his anxiety. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired. Long day ahead." He yawned to emphasize the feeling. Smackdown was scheduled in Atlanta on Thursday. One night in the hotel was all they had.

If only it could mean something more than just crashing before another grueling trip.

"You going to bed soon?"

"Probably. You?"

Dean's hair fell over his green-blue eyes, giving him that enigmatic look he was famous for. "I was thinking of getting something to eat. There's a taco shop down the street. You want anything?"

"I'm good."

"Come on. You sure? You look wiped. Maybe some greasy beef and cheese will do you some good."

 _His eyes are fucking beautiful_. The voice again. _But then again, you've always thought that, haven't you_?

Roman shook his head, wanting Dean to believe it was another polite decline to the offer, but the gesture was for himself, an answer to the voice. _And they call_ Dean _insane. I'm a wreck in my own head_.

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Suit yourself." He crossed the spacious room and drew back the dark orange curtain. "Ugh, damn. It's snowing again. Can you believe how much it snows here?"

"Hi, welcome to Colorado," Roman teased. He stepped out of the bathroom. "Don't you have a coat?"

Dean rubbed his chin, then his eyes widened in some realization. "Oh, whoops. I think I left it back at the arena."

"Walking around at night without a coat? What's wrong with you?"

Dean grinned. Something else he was known for: that deranged, yet endearing, little smile. "What's right with me, Roman?"

"True."

"I'll be fine," Dean insisted.

"Don't be stupid. You can wear mine." The words tumbled out of his mouth with speed. Roman hoped he wouldn't catch onto the slight thrill in his tone.

"You sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure. I'm not going anywhere."

Dean reached for the black winter jacket hanging on a golden hook by the door. "Thanks, Roman." It was a little big on him, but he looked comfortable in it. Adorable. He pulled the zipper up. "Be back in a bit."

"Be careful," Roman instructed.

"Thanks, Mom." The door fell closed behind him.

Roman leaned against the wall, casting out a long breath. _This won't be easy. Is it worth it_?

* * *

His head ached.

Memory was rattled.

It was dark.

Dean slowly became aware of the world around him again. His first comprehensible thought was _Why is it so dark_?

He tried to move. Couldn't.

His arms were bent, behind his back. He tugged. They didn't budge. Tried to move his feet. They were immobile as well.

 _What the fuck_?

It was warm where he was. Hot, in fact. It took a few seconds for his brain to process that that meant he was no longer outside. But he'd been outside, not a minute ago, right? He'd been walking to Marg's Taco Bistro. Craving a bean and cheese burrito. Then—

What the hell happened after that? His brain ached from how hard he tried to think. _Let's see…I was on that street. Wynkoop. That was the name of it, right? Yeah. Outside the hotel. Walking. Then…_

He tried to move again, with collected strength. It was wasted. He couldn't move more than his fingers, toes, and neck muscles. He'd used the all his power up. Now he was weak again.

 _Fuck, my head hurts…_

He heard something. At least his ears still worked. Footsteps. A little sigh. Of relief? Weird how he could tell. Something about heightened senses when one was deprived. What the hell did that useless information matter?

Beneficial information: _it's dark because your eyes are closed, idiot_.

Dean opened them.

The light was dim in here, wherever he was. His blurry vision slowly sharpened, and Dean found himself looking at…

Seth?

"Heya, Dean-o," Rollins said. "Sleep well?"

Dean's head hurt with a new pain, sheer confusion. His eyes surveyed the area. He was in a tiny room, what looked like an deserted office. Bare bookshelves. An empty desk. A flatscreen TV perched on a rolling stand. Then him, center of the ring. He looked down, his stiff neck shooting pain down his back. He was bound to a wooden chair, hands behind his back, ankles tied to the legs of the chair. Seth sat in a backwards chair, straddling the seat, his arms over the top rail. He was smiling. Dean hated that smug little smirk. It never seemed to drop.

His muscles were aching, his headache disorienting. He was in worse pain now than he'd been after his match against Sheamus. Something must have happened to him while he was out.

"Save your energy, brother. Won't do you much good here."

He had no right to use that word. "Where am I?" Dean growled. "What the hell's going on?"

"Hey, relax. What did I say about saving your energy? Don't wanna pass out again, do you?"

"Fuck you."

The smirk spread over his screwy face. "Aw, Dean. You're hurting my feelings over here." His hands went over his chest in feigned distress. Dean didn't think he could hate someone so much.

"Eat me."

"I can think of a few worse things to do with you. For now, though, we're just gonna hang out in here."

Dean lurched against the ropes. Surely he could get this…what material was this, nylon? Someone had really gone through meticulous methods to secure him. There had to be a weakness somewhere. Slack. A tear in the material. _Somewhere_.

Dean figured barking wasn't gonna get anything out of Seth. "What are we waiting for, Rollins? Ball to drop? You wanna kiss me at midnight? Give me another two months or so, then we'll see where we're at."

"That's it." Seth wagged a finger. Rose from the chair, talking to nobody in particular. "That's what I was waiting for. That cute little attitude the people just eat up every week. The great Dean Ambrose. The Lunatic Fringe. So _hilarious_. So _charming_." Seth took hold of Dean's hair and yanked his head back. "You ain't shit, Ambrose."

"Least I'm not full of it," Dean responded.

Seth let go of Dean's hair, pushed his head forward again. Growled. Dean liked how easy it was to annoy Seth. Rollins sauntered towards the desk.

"What the hell am I doing here, douche bag?" Dean demanded again. His fingers longed to wrap around Seth's pencil neck. Squeeze him until he sank into black unconsciousness.

Seth looked beside himself. "The rule's to show, not tell." He grabbed something off the desk. A phone. _His_ phone. "So allow me."

He toyed with the phone a little. Then pressed it to his ear. Making a call? As Dean's mouth opened, Seth put a finger to his lips. _Shhhhh_.

Seconds ticked by. "Roman!" Seth exclaimed. "Buddy! How are ya?"

Dean's chest enveloped on itself. _Roman_?


	2. Chapter 2

_I would kill to see Roman's face right now_.

He'd answered the call with a grumbly voice. Seth didn't care what time it was, and he knew Roman wouldn't, either. If Dean was calling, he'd answer. "Hey, where are you? It's—"

"Roman! Buddy!" Seth's tongue slid between his teeth. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and the night hadn't even really begun yet. "How are ya?"

There was silence on the other end. Seth had been expecting shock, obviously, but he had to check the phone screen to make sure the call hadn't disconnected. He could imagine Roman sitting there, laying there, whatever, in disbelief. Anger. Above all, fear.

"Rollins?"

"Speaking!"

"Where's Dean?" His voice had sharpened. He was catching onto the scenario. _Your little Dean's in a bit of a pickle, buddy_.

Instead he said, "Oh, Dean and I are hanging out right now. Catching up, like the good old days. We'd love it if you could join us. We've got a lot we could talk about." He pressed more poise into his voice than he usually did, knowing it was the right tone to absolutely piss Roman—and Dean—off.

"Let me talk to him."

"Sure thing." Seth pulled the phone from his ear and pressed the Speaker option on the screen. "Roman wants to say hi, Dean."

"Roman?" Dean asked. Seth watched his chest rise up and down, up and down, in a panicked breath. Dean was catching on, too. Finally. This wasn't a joke for either of them. Their wisecracks and wit wouldn't save them here.

"Dean?" came Roman's voice. Was it shaking? "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," Dean grumbled. Lie of the century right there.

"What the hell's going on?"

"You can fill him in," Seth said, loud enough for Roman to hear.

Dean glared up at him. Without breaking eye contact, Dean spoke, "Seth…nabbed me off the street at some point. Has me tied up in some office."

No words, but Seth caught the sound of Roman's heavy, irregular exhalations. _I'd give_ anything _to see his face…_!

"Where?" Roman growled. The Big Dog was a suitable nickname for him in that moment.

"Doesn't matter, Roman. You can't come here."

Whatever Roman's response to that was was overpowered by Seth's loud chuckle. "Oh, he's coming here, alright. You hear that, Roman? If you ever want to see Dean again, I suggest you follow my instructions very carefully. You got that?"

Seth imagined the conflict of Roman's mind. Common sense, logic, respect for himself and his own safety—banished by his will to protect Dean from whatever was to come.

"Where. Are. You."

"Commercial Automotive Warehouse off Grove Street. Can't miss it. But Roman? You're sounding a little angry right now. I get a little nervous when you're angry. And when I'm nervous, I tend to do really horrible things without thinking about them." Seth quickly upraised his foot, striking Dean in the face. He shouted out in pain, leaning back. "Don't make me nervous, Roman."

"Seth, I swear to God—"

"Oh, there's that tone again. You're freaking me out, Roman." Seth kicked Dean again, this time in the ribs. He was well aware of the minor rib injury Dean had sustained in his match against Sheamus. Dean slumped forward as much as his bondage allowed, grunting again. Seth held the phone close to Dean so Roman could hear everything. "You done yet?" he bayed.

Silence. The call was still going. "Good. Like I said, Commercial Automotive Warehouse. Grove Street. Come alone or _I_ swear to God, Dean will pay for your mistakes. That understood?"

"Yes," Roman said, defeated.

"That's what I like to hear. See you soon, Roman."

Seth ended the call and tossed the phone back on the desk. He reclaimed his seat in front of Dean. "And he's going to get the surprise of his life once he gets there."

"There?" Dean asked, still slightly out of breath. Shock consumed his face as he realized, "Not here? You sent him somewhere else."

Seth clicked his tongue. "Damn. I spoiled the surprise on that one, didn't I? Won't make that mistake again."

Dean shook visibly in the ropes. "If you touch him…if you hurt him in any way…I swear I'll—"

"What? What are you gonna do? What's he going to do?" he announced to an imaginary audience. "You and Roman keep doing this. All talk and no action. Tell you what, if you can get out of that chair in the next thirty seconds and take my ass down, I'll call up my buddy and tell him not to lay a hand on Roman Reigns." Seth folded his arms over his chest, waiting.

The shaking was worse. Seth could only laugh inwardly as he watched Dean yank and jerk against those ropes. There was no suspense. He wasn't going anywhere. Bray had done a wonderful job. He must have been an expert in such a craft.

Finally, Dean gave up and swore under his breath, looking down.

"That's what I thought," Seth said.

"Fuck you, Rollins."

"Like I said. I can think of a few worse things to do with you. Maybe later, if you ask nicely. Won't be much worse than what's in store for Roman."

Seth hit a chord. Dean went mad in his bondage, writhing and shouting. Helpless little Dean. This was the best night of Seth's life. His ex-allies, his worst adversaries, up against perhaps the worst night of theirs.

* * *

 _Seth has Dean_.

The words came as a much greater surprise than his previous thoughts did. Roman couldn't believe it, yet of course it was true. He'd heard Dean admit it himself. The cockiness tainting Seth's voice. There was no doubt. He wanted to believe it was a cruel prank. Dean, for some reason, was in cahoots with Seth to pull the biggest trick on Roman imaginable. But thankfully—and unfortunately, all at once—it wasn't a prank.

This was real.

Seth—batshit-crazy, demented, backstabbing Seth Rollins—kidnapped Dean Ambrose. Had him stashed away at some warehouse. For why? What purpose? Did the Authority have anything to do with this? Or was Seth just a psychopath who was willing to stoop to such low levels just to get back at his former brothers?

Roman was willing to believe either one.

He practically ran through the hotel lobby and through the parking lot. He leaped in his rental car, summoned the engine to life, and peeled out of the parking lot. He didn't know exactly where Grove Street was, but he was aware of the vicinity of the Commercial Automotive Warehouse. They'd passed it on their way to the Pepsi Center for tonight's episode of Raw.

His fingers were white, gripping the leather steering wheel of the rental. His arms were shaking, a combination of cold and anger. It was a quarter after one in the morning. He ignored the cold, his loathing of Seth heating his skin. He hoped Dean was warm in the warehouse. Perhaps Seth was kind enough to let him keep the jacket on.

The thought of Dean in any sort of peril…especially peril as real as this…there were no officials here to hold Seth back if he went too far. Hurt Dean too much. _Don't think about that_ , he told himself, swerving onto the next street in a sharp right turn. The roads were black with ice. He forced himself to slow down. He couldn't save Dean if he wound up in the hospital after a car crash.

"It'll be fine," he spoke aloud. His breath came out in a wispy cloud. "It'll be okay." _Hang on, Dean. I'll get you back. And I'll murder Seth if he hurt you_.

The warehouse, as Seth had said, was fairly easy to find. He shot past the red and white sign for the business and pulled the car to a screeching halt. It was quiet outside. Snow fell from the swirling white heavens like salt out of a shaker. Roman slammed his car door shut, hoping anyone who heard it—if anyone _could_ hear it—would realize Roman was there, and he was willing to do anything to get his Dean back.

The glass door leading into the main structure appeared to be locked up tight; however, a metal garage door was slightly ajar at the bottom, a rusty old lock cast aside. Roman felt someone left the door like this on purpose, the lock in full view to deliver a message: _I'm expecting you. Come on in_.

Roman heaved the rickety door like it weighed nothing. He stepped into the chilly warehouse, and once he let go of the door, it fell noisily shut behind him, rattling against the concrete. _If they didn't know I was here before, they should now_.

Inside wasn't nearly as big as he'd been expecting, for a warehouse. It was set up more like a garage, without any cars. The walls were aligned with racks of tools, shelves toppled with toolboxes. Tables were pressed against the walls, also lined with tools. There was no sign of anyone in here except himself.

"Where are you, you son of a bitch!?" he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls, bounced back into his eardrums.

A light came on, blinding him for a moment. Roman shielded his eyes. A familiar laugh was the next sound to shake the walls.

Roman dropped his arms and looked around. He couldn't pinpoint the source of the laugh, but he knew it and knew it well.

It belonged to Bray Wyatt.

He was in on this, too?

Loud music blared from four speakers in the top corners of the warehouse. Roman's hands nearly flew over his ears to protect his hearing, but he recognized the music quicker than the laugh. It was Dean's theme music, the song "Retaliation." His arms fell to his sides again. Roman looked up and down, behind him and ahead, but he still saw nobody. No Bray, no Seth, no Dean.

The song played until the very end, then faded out. "Show yourself!" Roman screamed. He sensed this was yet another mind game. They might have gotten old, but they were still effective.

Instead, something else played over the speakers. It was Dean's voice.

" _I'm ready. I'm always ready. I was born ready. Question is, are you ready? 'Cause you look a little uptight. You look a little tense. You look a little stiff. Bray Wyatt gettin' in here a little bit? Making you a little upset? Making you a little angry? That's good! I like my Roman Reigns angry. I like my Roman Reigns upset. That guy that got kicked out of Smackdown last week for roughin' people up—that's the guy I want in the ring with me tonight in the main event against Seth Rollins and Kane, because you already know, baby, no disqualification_."

It was a recording of a conversation Roman and Dean had had before a no-disqualification match against Kane and Seth Rollins. Roman then heard his own voice from the recording.

 _"I hate Bray Wyatt. I hate the Authority. I don't like anybody around here, other than you. You're the only family I really got around here._ "

"How precious!" the voice of the very one Roman had sworn hatred for cried out in mocking delight. "Rollins was right about you, Roman, my dear. All this time I thought I had you right where I wanted you, but now…only now do I realize how much I've been missing."

His voice pricked from the speakers. Roman had to track him down. There had to be a door, a staircase, _somewhere_.

"I've always known you're weak, Roman. You act tough, you bark, you talk about tearing down walls and ripping people apart…but on the inside you're afraid. You're so _delicate_. And your undoing is so apparent that it's a wonder I didn't figure it out before."

By now Roman had walked every inch of floor inside the garage. Only on his last steps did he see a door, a white door with a gleaming golden knob.

"Dean Ambrose is your weakness."

He reached for the knob.

"You're a man…in love."

Roman pushed the door open.

Bray Wyatt was waiting for him.

The husky ogre of a man knocked into Roman, sending him to the cold concrete floor. Roman's arms broke his fall. Bray approached him slowly, taking his time with his prey. Roman pushed himself back, trying to regain his balance, clutching his arm. Already bruises were forming where he'd hit the floor.

"There's no escape for you now," Bray cooed. "You're all mine."

* * *

"Cute jacket," Seth jeered, lifting Roman's jacket from the floor. Dean had been stripped of it before he was bound. "Yours? Or Roman's?" He pitched the jacket at Dean. It hit his face, then slid into his lap.

Dean sighed. This probably wouldn't work. But he had to try.

"Seth," he said. His wrists ached from his struggle against the ropes. He couldn't deny the pleasant aroma he picked up from the jacket. It smelled deeply of pine and dark chocolate. Like Roman on a day he wasn't sweating and bleeding. "You can't do this to him. To _us_."

Seth snorted. "There hasn't been an 'us' since last year, buddy. You and Roman mean nothing to me. I care about the Authority, and I care about my championship belt. I wouldn't waste any concern on you _or_ your boyfriend."

Dean's face burned red. He hoped to God Seth would read it as anger, not humiliation. "I hate what the Authority did to you. They really messed you up in there, huh?" He pointed his fingers, trying to refer to Seth's head. His fucked-up, empty head.

"The Authority does what needs to be done. They think exactly like I do. I should have been with them the entire time, instead of wasting my time with you two. But living with regrets is almost as big of a waste of time and energy as the Shield was. So I try not to let it ruin my future."

Dean sighed. It was pointless. He should have known. He couldn't worry himself over winning Seth over right now. He was worried sick for Roman. Had no idea what was "in store" for him.

The phone in Seth's hand— _Dean's_ phone—buzzed. Seth answered the call. "Hello. Oh, really? That was fast. Alright, you know what to do." He dismissed the call and grinned down at Dean. "Showtime."

Dean's heart rammed against his ribcage. Seth walked over to the TV and powered it on. Dean blinked at whatever was showing. It was too dark to tell.

"Should have made popcorn for this one," Seth said. He dragged his chair beside Dean, dropped down into it. From here Dean was nearly close enough to head-butt the bastard. But his eyes were glued to the screen. What was happening?

Roman's voice came through the television. "Where are you, you son of a bitch!?"

A light came on. Someone laughed. Roman came into view, wandering the grounds of the garage. Dean was baffled when his own music played next. He was forced to listen to his own theme for four minutes while watching Roman desperately hunting him down.

"Show yourself!" Roman screamed at the end of the song.

Dean listened to his own voice then. His own words. Encouraging Roman to get angry, get upset, for the sake of their upcoming match.

" _My Roman Reigns_ ," Seth mocked, snickering. "That's cute. He really outdid himself here."

"He"? Right. Seth's "buddy." The one really meeting Roman at the fake location. Dean racked his brain for the culprit.

Then he realized.

Only one man toyed with Roman like this.

And did a damn good job of it, too.

Bray Wyatt.

Sure enough. "How precious!"

Seth nudged Dean. "You ready for the match of the year, Dean-o?"

Bray was going to ambush Roman. He was taunting him now, mocking, howling at the soft spot Roman had for Dean. Dean was infuriated. It was a wonder the ropes hadn't snapped from the labor.

"Dean Ambrose is your weakness," the villain announced.

Roman approached a door. Dean nearly screamed at him not to open it. Like he was watching a horror movie featuring a stupid main character.

"You're a man…in love."

Seth cackled as Roman opened the door.

When Bray Wyatt emerged from the shadows and struck Roman, knocking him to the ground, Seth cried out, " _Oh_! Did _not_ see that one coming."

Dean bit down hard on his lip. Roman could take Bray. He'd done it before. Several times. He had nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about—

Then he noticed Bray Wyatt was armed. With a tire iron.

Bray hovered over Roman, who was struggling to get back on his feet. No. He couldn't go down just like that. Not his Roman Reigns.

"Come on, Roman," Dean muttered. His veins nearly burst through his taut biceps. "Get the fuck up."

"Boo, Roman. Boo," Seth said. He held up a thumbs-down on both hands. "Go Bray."

Dean could have closed his eyes. Made it all go away. Pretend it wasn't happening. But like a driver passing a nasty car accident, his attention was fully fixed on the unofficial match. He watched Bray Wyatt hover over Roman, laugh. When Roman was on his feet again, Bray hurled the tire iron into his arm. Roman collapsed. Bray swung the tire iron the opposite way, hitting his other arm.

"No Superman punches from the Big Dog today," Seth commented.

A hot tear stung the corner of Dean's eye. No. He couldn't see this. Couldn't sit here and watch Roman get destroyed by Bray Wyatt. He tried closing his eyes. Seth's response was to crank the volume up. "You're not gonna miss this," he said, hitting Dean's cheek. In those five words, his arrogance was gone. Replaced by pure wrath. This was a twisted fucking individual.

Dean heard nothing but the whack of the tire iron against whatever part of Roman's body, then Roman's yells just before taking another hit. Finally they stopped, and Bray was the one to let out a holler. Dean forced his eyes open. Roman had lifted his legs and kicked Bray in the hand. The tire iron went flying across the room. Bray held his hand. Roman kicked him again, this time in the gut. Bray stumbled back a step or two, but he wasn't completely distracted. Drawn off for long enough for Roman to finally get his ass off the floor.

Roman cradled his right arm. His good arm. Dean figured it was broken in at least one place. _Don't let that stop you, Roman_. He voiced his hopes aloud, to annoy Seth and comfort his boiling emotions. "Fuck yeah, Roman! Don't let that crazy-ass hillbilly keep you down forever!" His tongue went through his teeth. _Roman can do this. He can do this_.

Bray lunged at Roman, who swung his left arm up as a defense. It knocked Bray back several more steps. He was clearly bewildered. It allowed Roman more time to recover his strength. He charged at Bray Wyatt, arm up. It was his injured arm, but his best one. He soared past Bray, clocking him in the face. It was enough power to finally get Bray on the ground. Roman spun around, stopping himself before he collided with a table. Bray stumbled to his feet. He shoved his hair from his face. He was fuming, but still smiling. What was up with that?

Roman charged yet again, shouting out as he struck Bray in the throat, then held his head in place to deliver seven punches to Bray's face. Bray finally tried defending himself by locking an arm around Roman's throat, but Roman used the move to his advantage, wrapping his arms around Bray tight and leaping up. The move sent them both to the floor, Roman on top of Bray.

"Even outside the ring, my boy's a champion," Dean said, laughing. Seth really thought this was going to be torture? Hell, even Dean thought so not five minutes ago. He was confident in Roman.

Roman straddled Bray, throwing punch after punch into his already-bleeding nose. Bray grabbed Roman by the arms and squeezed tight. Roman howled in agony as a muscle already injured took even more damage. Bray lifted Roman up by his arms alone and hurled him into a table. The corner struck Roman in the ribs. He collapsed on the floor.

"Yeah!" Seth shouted. "Get him!"

Bray hoisted Roman up by the arms and threw him onto the table, pinning him against the rough wood. With a slick hand he fetched the closest tool, a hammer. Dean's heart dropped to his stomach. _No, oh fuck, oh fuck, no_.

The demon brought the hammer down towards Roman's chest as though to break every rib. Roman outstretched his hands and caught the hammer before it made contact with his body. Bray tried to shake the hammer free from Roman's grasp, but Roman held on tight. With his other hand, Bray pressed into Roman's throat tight. Roman started losing oxygen. His grip on the hammer loosened. His hands went instead to his throat. Once his weapon of choice was back under his full control, Bray struck Roman in the side of the head, then lowered the weapon to his tender ribcage. Blow upon blow upon blow.

Dean was thrashing harder than ever. Tears glided from the corners of his eyes, down his cheek, into his ears. "STOP!" he bellowed though he knew damn well Bray couldn't hear him—and wouldn't stop even if he could. "NO! STOP! NO!"

Seth wasn't saying anything. He didn't call Dean out on tears over Roman. He didn't hoot and holler at Bray's successes. It would have been a strange occurrence if Dean wasn't so distracted.

Roman slumped to the floor. He was barely moving. Dean held his own breath, hoping somehow he could detect signs of life from Roman if he was quiet enough. Bray knelt down and lifted Roman's head in his hands. Roman's eyes were closed. Dean closed his own, tears filling his lids and seeping through the slits. His head slumped as lethargically as Roman's entire physique had.

No.

This wasn't happening.

He couldn't lose Roman.

Wouldn't.

He'd never accept it.

Roman completed Dean.

They needed each other.

Without Roman, Dean was not whole.

He loved Roman…

 _I love him. I love Roman so fucking much. God, if You're listening, please do not fucking take him from me_ …


	3. Chapter 3

Seth had had his fun. Bray had demolished Roman Reigns.

But now he sat quietly in his seat, listening to Dean freak the fuck out, watching Bray finish Roman off. Now it just needed to be over. What's done could be done, and this entire fiasco would be at an end. No more Roman Reigns. No more Dean Ambrose. Only Seth Rollins.

Bray reached for the table again. This time he drew a silver blade that glistened in the light of the garage.

"So much," Bray said, examining the blade, "for the great Roman Reigns."

Seth stood up and faced Dean, back to the TV. "You see what happens when you get in my way? I warned you in the past, Dean, not to interfere with the champion." His voice faltered. He cleared his throat. "You and Roman have been burdens for so long. It was about time someone put…put you in your place. And who better to do that than the man who hates Roman even more than I do?"

Dean was declined in the chair, trembling like a leaf against a mighty autumn wind. Seth whacked his head.

"This is…just what I wanted."

Dean looked up at him. The color in his eyes was gone. Either his pupils had expanded over the entire tiny span of his eyes, or they'd gone from blue to black. Either way, he bore his teeth like an animal. His face was beet red and sweating fiercely. In the moment he was really, truly, mad. A mental patient escaped. In the moment, Seth feared him and prayed for the ropes to keep up the good work.

"But I think you've seen enough."

Seth turned to the TV again to turn it off, but he froze. Roman was _up_. He'd brought his arm up to defend against the slash of Bray's blade. With an incredible force—Seth could practically hear the announcers calling it extraordinary—he twisted Bray's arm until the knife was pointed directly at Bray's eye.

"How the hell is he doing that?" Seth wondered aloud, incredulous.

* * *

Bray fell back to avoid getting stabbed by his own weapon. Roman fell atop him, pressing forward hard. He was winning in strength. His arm screamed, begging for him to stop with pain as evidence in its case against Roman's mind. But his willpower overruled his body's plea. His motivation was stronger than anything he'd ever claimed in his career as a wrestler.

Bray seemed to recover some strength of his own. The blade was half an inch from his eye and going no further. That was fine. Roman wasn't truly aiming to win with the knife. It was merely a tool of distraction against a backup weapon, one Roman had snatched without Bray's awareness.

A pair of scissors.

Roman swung the scissors around and stabbed Bray across the chest. The scissors broke through the skin and struck a bone. Bray screamed. He let go of the knife. Roman yanked the scissors out and stabbed him again, near the throat. Blood surged from the gaping wounds. This time he left the scissors stuck in Bray's body.

Roman reclaimed the knife and slashed Bray's throat clean open.

Bray Wyatt stopped screaming.

He died with his eyes and mouth wide open.

He looked just as creepy as he did when he was alive.

Roman pushed himself up to his feet. His shirt was saturated with Bray's blood. He stripped of his shirt and dropped it on Bray's fallen body, leaving him in just an undershirt. There wasn't a part of his body that didn't hurt. He knew for certain several of his ribs were broken. His elbow was fractured in some way. But that didn't matter. Bray Wyatt tried to kill him, but Roman had won.

A battle.

But not the war. Not quite yet.

Roman had a feeling Seth wasn't in the building. He'd been lured here. Dean was the bait. Seth wasn't around. Bray Wyatt had been stationed here instead, most likely to kill Roman. Either that or Bray had used attempted lethal attacks by his own account. Either way, Bray had failed. He was dead.

But Seth still had Dean. Still had leverage.

He had to find them.

Roman quickly wiped down the knife and the scissors (after tugging them out of Bray's body, nearly making himself ill in the process), leaving them behind. Without many fingerprints, the only known guilty party involved in the bloodbath was dead. He stumbled out to his car. After giving himself a moment to breathe, he reached for his phone in the center console. He dialed Dean's number, convinced Seth would answer on the true phone owner's behalf.

* * *

Dean stared at the TV.

Blinked.

Fixed his eyes on the dead body of Bray Wyatt.

And laughed.

Perhaps it was a sure sign of his insanity, but he laughed.

And laughed.

Hard.

Seth, hands pressed to his head, turned to face him, appalled.

"He's gonna kill you," Dean said. He licked away the last tear on his face. "You are _dead_."

"Shut the fuck up," Seth commanded, teeth gnashed.

The phone buzzed.

Seth frowned at the caller ID. Dean couldn't resist simpering, his snake of a tongue rolling down his lip.

Lips pursed, Seth answered the call. "Hey, Roman." His voice was on the brink of breakage. He felt it necessary to put the call on Speaker once again.

"Showed up at your tea party. Didn't see you or Dean there."

"Yeah, change of plans. Turns out it's not good for anyone to be in the same room as you and Bray. Everything goes to hell."

"Well, I've got news for you, Rollins…"

"Save it, Reigns. I know. You took down Bray. I saw the whole thing." Seth's eyes went to Dean. " _We_ saw the whole thing."

"We?"

"Yeah. You should have seen the way Dean broke at the sight of his fallen angel. Lost his mind. Not sure he got it back in full just yet."

"Let's try this again, shall we? Where is Dean?"

Seth ended the call. Rubbed his scruffy chin.

"You're scared," Dean accused. "Scared to death. 'Cause you know I'm right. You won't tell him where we really are because you know the minute he gets here, he's gonna—"

"Shut the hell up, Ambrose," Seth snapped. "I'm not afraid of Roman Reigns, because he can't touch me. I still have you. And you make one hell of a Reigns-proof shield."

Dean smirked. Though Seth had a point. Roman couldn't—wouldn't—do much to Seth so long as he was still tied to this fucking chair. He had to get back into a good mindset. Focus. Think. How to get out of this one.

Seth dialed another number. He paced the floor, other hand on his hip, fingers drumming the bone. "Come on, come on," he muttered. "Kane. Look, this is an emergency. I need you to meet me at Clear Creek Business Park. It's, uh, 6830 Broadway Street." Pause. Seth made a fist, slammed it against the desk. "I don't give a shit what time it is, Kane! It's a life-or-death situation here!" Pause. Sigh. "I'm sorry. I just…I need you right now. Please? Be here as soon as you can."

Seth hung up the phone. "Don't go anywhere," he barbed. He disappeared through the door.

That's where he needed to be. Outside. Away. Before Roman put himself in harm's way again.

"Break, you stupid fucking ropes!" Dean shouted, thrusting against them. "BREAK!"


	4. Chapter 4

Kane was dressed in a suit. Even for summons out of bed close to three in the morning, The Devil's Favorite Demon managed to stay classy. Seth met him outside.

"You look like hell, Rollins," Kane greeted Seth. "What's going on?"

Seth smirked. "Remember when you told me you'd give anything to fuck up Dean Ambrose?"

"Yeah?"

"I have him."

Kane stared blankly. "You…have him. What, here? Now?"

Seth nodded.

Kane scoffed. "How'd you manage to pull that off?"

"I just asked for a little help."

"From who?" Kane asked, arching a suspicious eyebrow.

"Nobody we need to worry about now. But I finally figured out how wrong we've been playing this game for so long. The best way to fuck up Dean Ambrose isn't to fuck up Dean Ambrose. It's to fuck up Roman Reigns."

"And vice versa," Kane stated.

"Well." Seth shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, we don't have to touch him, really." He pushed some hair from his eyes. Sweat was freezing his mane to his skin. "That's the best part. Hurting Roman would hurt Dean a lot more than anything else we could do to him."

"True. But there wouldn't be anything wrong with roughing him up just a little, right?" Kane pressed. "He can still _feel_ physical pain."

"Yeah, but I think Dean is pretty strong physically. Too strong. Mentally, though, we all know he's off his rocker. Breaking Roman before his eyes is probably the best kind of revenge."

Kane stared at Seth, skeptical. "Unbelievable. After all this time, I thought you'd toughened up just a _bit_. But you're still soft."

"What?" Seth asked, tone snappy. Defensive.

"You don't want revenge on Dean. You want revenge on Roman. Because you still have feelings for Ambrose."

Seth was stunned. He laughed heartily to cover it. "What the hell are you talking about, Kane?"

"Have you touched Ambrose yet tonight? Laid a harmful hand on him?"

"Like I said. Hadn't had to."

Kane cocked his head, forming some conclusion in his head Seth couldn't see. "You haven't because you can't. Sure, you can wail on him in the ring. Heat of the moment, business as usual. But I see right through you, Seth. You love the kid. Let hell come to Roman Reigns in any way possible, but the less you have to hurt Dean Ambrose, the better."

Seth snorted. "Oh, come on, Kane. I'm not my mushy ex-brother Roman Reigns over here. The only feelings I have for Dean Ambrose are that of spite, hatred, and _wrath_."

"So if I go in there and rough Dean up a bit _for_ you, you wouldn't have a problem."

Seth licked his lips. They were stinging and chapped in the arctic winds. "Not at all."

Kane didn't look convinced. "And where's Roman, then? Does he know you have his little friend?"

"Not yet. Gotta let him know where we are." Seth waved the phone in Kane's face.

"Call him up," Kane demanded. "And take me to Ambrose. I'll do what should have been done the entire time."

"Wait, you're not gonna…" Seth swallowed hard. That lump was back. "Kill him, right?"

"No, dumbass. I'm not. For someone who planned such a risky ploy—risking jail time—you sure didn't think things through."

Kane stormed into the building. Seth trailed behind, serving as a human GPS for Kane to find the main-floor office where he had Dean stashed. Kane pushed the door open. Dean, startled at the sudden burst, whipped his head up.

Kane glowered at Dean, standing before him. His grin was infernal. Seth lingered by the door, phone to his ear.

"Seth, where the _hell_ are you?" Roman snarled in his answer.

"Clear Creek Business Park. 6830 Broadway Street." The way Kane was towering over Dean, Seth knew what to expect. He put the phone on Speaker and said, "Better hurry. Kane's not one you want to keep waiting."

Kane stormed Dean in the chair, hitting him again and again and again. Face, ribs, chest, stomach, knee, one after the other in random order. The chair fell over, and Kane didn't lay off until he'd exhausted himself. He stood up and kicked Dean in the chest one more time. Dean let out a wicked cough, spitting a clump of blood onto the dingy carpet. Each abrupt breath Dean took in made his face contort with pain.

Seth was aware of the pain in his chest. The lone tear in the corner of his eye.

Roman had heard it all, too.

"We'll be waiting." His voice wasn't compelling, not even to himself. Seth hung up the phone, leaned against the doorway, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Kane knelt beside Dean and gently pushed some hair from his eyes, like suddenly Kane felt sorry for him. "While I never liked being yelled at over the phone and dragged out of bed at three in the morning," he spoke, "this was worth it. I've been waiting to get my hands on you for a long time, Ambrose."

"You're gonna kill me, right?" Dean asked, voice strained. "Is this the way it'll go, Kane?"

"Kill you?" Kane sounded amused. He continued to sweep hair from Dean's eyes, which kept falling back into his face because of his position on the ground. "And waste my best leverage? Not a chance. Not until I know for certain I'm absolute done with you and won't be needing your services anymore."

Kane stalked out of the room. "Let's go," he called to Seth. "We've gotta prepare for our guest."

Dean coughed again, drawing in a shaky breath. Seth bit the inside of his cheek until his teeth tore through the skin. He wandered towards Dean, scooped up Roman's jacket from the floor, and tossed it over Dean's body. Then he left Dean alone, following after Kane.

 _Maybe getting Kane involved wasn't necessary. Maybe I panicked. I could have handled this alone_.

But it was too late now.

* * *

Roman was in hell.

He'd been driving around for what felt like hours, searching everywhere he could think to look for Dean and Seth. He hadn't called for backup. This was his war to fight. He didn't need anyone else's assistance. What good could anyone else do, really? And he wasn't particularly fond of any of the other wrestlers, either. They wouldn't care as much as he did.

He was fueled strictly by determination and vexation. He wasn't even tired, in spite of the green neon letters in the car indicating sunrise was due in a matter of just a couple of hours.

Roman was back outside their hotel when Seth called again. Hearing Kane assault Dean, listening to Dean's shouts and groans…Roman nearly broke. He felt sick. He was going to hurl, empty his stomach—acid and all—right there on the street, outside the luxurious hotel. Pass out. But if he passed out, he couldn't save Dean.

He _needed_ to save Dean.

On the drive—he took the slick roads very carefully, going at least ten miles under the speed limit on most streets—his mind trailed back to the night Seth betrayed them. He struck Roman first with a chair, then attacked Dean in a worse degree. If Roman hadn't been so dazed, so weak, Dean might have taken less hits than he did. So many people were surprised, and of course that shocked bunch included the other two former Shield members. There were rumors all three boys would go their separate ways, but Roman was determined to stick with Dean. Dean was all he really had in the WWE. Dean was his family. His everything.

He swore then, and he swore tonight, to never let Dean down. To never betray him or let him fall. To never leave him behind. To commit all actions to the greater good, to protecting his family.

He wouldn't let Dean down tonight.

What would have been a ten-minute drive on a normal day with decent weather conditions ended up taking him twice that long. He leaped out of the car and scurried towards the building.

Just like the garage, the glass door was propped open. An invitation.

Roman slinked into the building.

It was quiet in the spacious lobby. For a moment Roman fooled himself into believing he had the element of surprise going for him. Maybe they didn't know he was here yet. He could find them before they found out, perform a sneak attack, get Dean and give Kane and Seth a little hell.

Roman wandered down a long, winding corridor, gently pushing doors open—the ones he didn't find locked—and poking his head inside. No sign of Dean so far. He hoped he wouldn't have to search every single floor of this joint before finally coming across Ambrose, but if that was what it took, he was willing to drive the entire trip.

A door on the left was the last one in this hallway. Roman pressed his ear against it. Something was going on in there. He heard it. He sensed it.

Roman prepared himself for whatever awaited him past this door.

He kicked the door open with an aggressive shout.

He found himself in a cramped office. The room was empty except for a tragic sight featured in the center of the room. Dean Ambrose, bound to a wooden chair by his wrists and ankles with thick rope. His hair was messy and his face was bruised, his eyes in clouds of purple haze. He stared up at Roman, and his breathing picked up. Roman couldn't tell if Dean was afraid or relieved.

"Dean," Roman whispered. His resolve was broken already. The sight of Dean like this wore down the last bit of resistance he'd had to offer.

"Hey, Roman," Dean said pathetically.

Roman rushed to Dean and knelt in front of him. He gently pushed Dean's hair from his face, tilting his head back, checking for all injuries sustained.

"Where are they?" Roman asked.

"I don't know. I heard him say you were here…Kane let me have a couple more blows, then they just…left."

Roman vigorously clutched at the ropes, his fingers wriggling like worms, trying to burrow between the knots. It did no good. Neither did tugging.

"Don't bother," Dean said. "I've been trying to get out of these for hours."

"I'll carry you out of here in the chair if I have to."

Dean lifted his lips in a weak half-smile. "Let's hurry, then. Don't know when they'll be—ROMAN!"

Roman felt the presence behind him as soon as Dean screamed his name. Roman whirled around, but it was too late. The Devil's Favorite Demon wrapped his hand around Roman's throat and gripped it tight. Roman choked and spurted, his hands grabbing at Kane's. Suddenly Kane lifted Roman into the air and slammed his body into the floor. A Choke Slam. One of Kane's signature moves.

Roman's head hit the floor in the impact, knocking him out cold.

* * *

It was such a bullshit plan. Not bullshit because it was ridiculous but because Seth and Kane were clever bastards. Of course it worked.

Kane and Seth knew Roman was there. That's why they'd just left Dean in the room. They didn't ambush Roman, they let him take his time finding Dean. To catch him off guard they planted the idea in his head that there would be no attack, no surprises, and once he found Dean, nothing would stop him from just taking Dean out of here.

Dirty fuckers.

Kane loomed over Roman's fallen figure. He looked to Seth. Smiled. Seth nodded. What language were they speaking to each other without a word?

Dean was horrified. He stared down at Roman. Begged him to wake up and kick some ass.

"Where do you want him?" Kane asked, lifting Roman up over his shoulders, wearing him like a backpack.

"That conference room down the way," Seth answered. Dean noticed he was feeling his face a lot. Touching his lips, massaging the pulled skin of his temples. Pacing the floor. Was he nervous? This hadn't gone as smoothly as he'd been hoping, Dean figured. But he couldn't exactly question it aloud here and now, confront Seth on his true feelings of these circumstances.

"You've got it. And you're sure you wanna take him instead of him?" By his gestures Dean read the first _him_ meant Roman. The second, himself.

"Positive."

Kane peered at Seth grimly. Like Seth had made the wrong decision or something. Seth rubbed his nose.

"Hey. What do you think you're doing with him?" Dean queried. Kane's only response was that goddamn satanic little smirk again. He towed Roman out of the office.

"HEY!" Dean screamed. "GET THE FUCK BACK HERE, KANE!"

"Jesus, stop yelling," Seth said wearily. "Your fucking voice is gonna give out on you. And he won't listen, anyway."

The back of Dean's neck itched. A line of sweat had left it burning and sticky. "You wanna get me some water or something, Seth?"

Seth cocked his head. "Why?"

"Kane said he had to keep me alive. Control reasons. Can't really go on unless I get some water."

"Human body can last a few days without water. You'll be fine."

Dean's voice rustled soft. "What are you gonna do to him?"

"What'd I say about your voice, Dean? Save it. Think of yourself for once. For God's sake."

Dean was stunned. Seth was clearly losing it here. The cocky son of a bitch he'd been just hours before seemed to be hiding away somewhere, terrified of the real man in charge here now. He was pacing again, only stopping in the middle of a step when Kane reappeared in the doorway.

Kane snapped his fingers and craned his neck in the direction of wherever he'd stashed Roman. "All yours, Rollins."

Seth glared at Dean with traces of a fire in his eyes. They weren't black anymore. Dark brown, his natural color. Seth was fighting to still be angry but he was feeling something else.

Dean opened his mouth to try. Just one more time. Kane reached over and smacked him across the face, silencing a plea that had yet to be entered.

Seth sauntered out of the room. Leaving Dean and Kane alone.

Kane kicked off whatever plans he had for Dean by lifting the heavy desk and dragging it across the room so it was right in front of Dean. Kane extracted something small from the pocket of his suit jacket—a switchblade. The hell did Kane need that for? He lowered himself to his knees in front of Dean. Dean braced for pain but realized in a second Kane was using the switchblade to slice through the ropes binding his ankles to the chair. He grabbed hold of Dean's ankles. Drug him closer to the desk, setting his feet on the desk. His long legs stretched over most of the desk's surface area. The desk was also taller and his legs were at an awkwardly higher angle than the rest of his body.

Kane used the longest pieces of the portions of the rope to refasten Dean's feet together. Lugged off his tennis shoes and dirty white socks once they were secure.

"You gonna start anytime soon?" Dean asked.

Kane didn't say anything to the sarcastic jibe. He was fiddling with something else from his pocket. Dean recognized a flicking metal sound. A lighter igniting. Sure enough Kane was upholding a Bic lighter. He raised the blade of his pocketknife underneath the tiny flame, let the steel heat up until it singed red. Turned the blade over in his hand and heated the other side.

Dean's fingers drummed against air in the ropes.

"It's kinda boring in here," he went on. "Can I get some toys to play with? Maybe a set of Legos or a—"

Dean interrupted himself with a scream of pain. Kane pressed the searing blade against the sensitive skin of Dean's right sole. He held the blade there for several seconds, what felt like thirty excruciating minutes to Dean Ambrose. The villain only drew the blade away for a moment, giving Dean no relief at all as the flesh continued singing underneath the enduring layer of heat.

He forced the blade's side into Dean's sole again. A bit higher up than his previous hit mark. Listened to Dean yell and scream.

This went on and on and on. He'd hold the blade to a certain area of Dean's foot, pull away just to hit another area a second later. The only real "breaks" Dean received was when Kane took a little time to reheat his knife. The "breaks" were nothing to look forward to, anyway. It hurt like hell all the same.

The bottoms of the feet were perhaps the most heat-sensitive area on the human body. Kane really thought this through. Knew what he was doing. Felt no remorse. _Sadistic fuck_ , Dean thought, nearly letting the words escape past his lips as Kane burned him again. Of course Kane kept switching from the right foot to the left and back again to ensure Dean wouldn't be able to walk without excruciating pain for a long time.

Dean desperately sought out a happy place. Somewhere for his mind to vacation until this was over. Couldn't find it in any childhood memories. Not even in his young adult life. His fondest memories were perhaps his most recent ones. Signing on with WWE. Meeting Roman. Uniting with him and Seth in the Shield—nope. Bad memory, very bad. Ended awfully. Skip over that part. Him and Roman, him and Roman. Tag-teaming. Fighting together. Helping each other through difficult nights. Signing that contract. Beating Seth. Beating J&J Security. Watching Roman in many victories.

All of his good memories, the things in life worth fighting for, always wound their way back to Roman. Several rivers ending in the same lake. Roman made this life worth living. Above all.

Kane peeled back a burnt layer of skin off Dean's foot. Dean's lip was split from how hard he'd been biting down. He tasted blood.

 _I've gotta get the fuck out of here_.

He had a plan. Would it work? Wasn't sure. Didn't know. Worth a shot.

The next time Kane burned him with the piping hot knife, Dean let out another furious cry and slumped back in the chair, eyes closed, pretended the pain had caused him to pass out. He immediately set to work on a breathing exercise that helped him lower his heart rate, in case Kane checked for that. It was a good way to decrease a dangerously high heart rate. Deep breaths. Slow as to not betray his own plan. Performed the "Valsalva maneuver" in which he strained the muscles in his abdomen after those deep breaths.

He waited.

Waited.

Heard Kane shuffling.

Sure enough Kane's massive hand came onto Dean's neck, checking for a pulse. The pressure on the side of his windpipe let Dean know his breathing techniques had worked.

The knife clattered on the desk. Dean felt Kane's energy leave the room. Still he waited another few seconds before carefully opening his eyes to check.

He was alone.

Dean clenched his toes, perhaps the only spot on his feet left untouched, and drew them back, going for the knife. The angle his legs were at was painful, but his practically smoldering feet helped him ignore that particular discomfort. He slid the toes of his left foot underneath the knife handle and situated the toes of his right foot atop, enclosing the weapon in a steady grip. He moved slowly, steady, with the knife between his toes. At one point the blade poked his big toe, and he bit back a yelp. It was still scorching hot.

Once the knife dangled halfway over the edge of the desk, Dean used the very edge of his heel to boot it to the floor. He used enough power to make the knife fall a little ways behind him.

Next came the hard part. He'd have to work fast here.

Dean used his weight to tip the chair. It wobbled a bit on its two right legs, then returned to stability. Dean tipped it again. Again. Finally the chair toppled over. There was no way to quiet the sound of the crash.

His slim fingers reached desperately for the knife.

 _Come on_ , he commanded himself. _Come on. Just stretch a little…bit…further_ …


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take long for the failed Superman to wake up.

Seth watched him slowly rouse from prostration. His head slowly lifted, and his arms tried to lift themselves until they realized they were fastened to the arms of a spinning chair. Nylon. It did the trick.

Roman's eyes fluttered open. They drilled into Seth's with morbid hostility. _I really hope these ropes hold out_ , Seth thought. Just as he'd been worried about ever having trouble with Bray Wyatt, he didn't want to imagine what Roman could do to him if only he wasn't strapped down securely.

"Welcome, old friend," Seth saluted. He rotated a long, narrow piece of wood in his hands. It was the leg of a chair Kane had broken off for him.

"Hardly," Roman stated. "What the hell do you want, Seth?"

Seth's eyes narrowed. Was Roman really this slow? He still hadn't caught on? Maybe he'd hit hit head harder than Seth first thought. "Watch the tone with me, Reigns. And to answer your question…" Seth stood up, outstretching his arms. "I already have everything I want. You. Here. Helpless. Under _my_ control."

Roman chuckled under his breath. "Big talk coming from someone who cowers behind the Authority every time someone steps up to face him."

Seth growled. _Fuck you, Roman. I'm not soft. I'll prove it to you, and I'll prove it to Kane_. He examined every inch of Roman's build. From watching the combat between him and Bray Wyatt, Seth knew everywhere Roman was weak. He knew where to strike and where it would hurt the most. Arms. Ribs. Head.

Heart.

Seth swung the leg into Roman's right arm. Roman yelped darkly, his head falling forward. Seth could only envisage the pain. He bent down to look at Roman, eye to eye, inches apart, Seth's breath hot on Roman's face.

"The truth is, Roman, I'd always felt a fondness for Dean. Kinda like you do. You never meant as much to me as he did, back in the Shield. Dean was like my little…A+ project. I wanted to make sure he was raised right. See to his training. Lead him to victory, knowing his successes were all thanks to his awesome teacher. But you came along and…" Seth shook his head. His brown and blonde locks flipped, tousled and tangled. He thrust the end of the wood into Roman's ribs and talked over Roman's cries. "It was always about you two. Sure, I was the architect of the shield, but who roots for three guys more than they do a team of two? He fell for you. He rejected me in favor of you."

He brought the chair leg back and whacked it against Roman's arm. The wood cracked near the edge.

"When I turned on the Shield, I was hurt. I wanted you to hurt the way you hurt me. But none of it ended up mattering, since my leaving just drove the two of you closer together. You didn't need me." Seth rubbed his nose, then hit Roman in the ribs again. Alternating. "Hell, what was I but an obstacle between two people destined for one another? You weren't brothers. That was crap the media fed our homophobic nation so you could get worldwide support without coming out as gay. But nobody believes the whole brother charade anymore. They all know the truth. Roman Reigns, you are totally and completely, helplessly and irremediably in love with Dean Ambrose. And I know for a _fact_ …" Seth pressed the wood into Roman's shoulder, an area he knew had been hurt by Bray's hammer. Roman grimaced. "That he's got those same feelings for you."

Seth gave Roman a small break from the beating. He stood up straight. His back was killing him. He compared his own soreness to what Roman must have been feeling. It didn't seem too bad after that. _Take that, you fucking thief_.

"You should have heard him howling earlier. He thought you were dead. He nearly died himself. Part of him might have, if you'd really gone. The kid is crazy about you. You ended up being his hero, Roman. Not me. It was you. I learned it would always be you."

Roman didn't say a word. The only noise from him was intakes and discharges of painful breaths.

"Anything to say?" Seth taunted.

"So…you're jealous."

Seth's blood simmered in his veins. "What the fuck is this, high school?" He knocked a punch into Roman's jaw. "This isn't about punishing you for taking Dean away from me. Might be a sweet little bonus, but that's not the point at all. It's about getting you two pests out of my way so I can finally move forward and onward in my career as the _future_ of the WWE."

"You really think I'm buying that?" Roman laughed.

Infuriated, Seth struck Roman across the face with the wood, aiming for the jaw. "Ever since the two of you banded together, teamed up against me, you've held me back from where I should be by now. This isn't about the past. This is about the future. _My_ future."

"Us, band together? We were all brothers, Seth. You're the one who turned on _us_ , remember? You went crawling to the Authority for protection. You're honestly saying you're jealous because—"

"I am not jealous!" Seth screamed.

Roman went on: "—we held onto our friendship, our brotherhood, past your betrayal?" Through the pain he still managed to grin. It was pissing Seth off. His blood was near boiling now. "You miserable little sellout. You thought you could get everything you wanted by turning on us, but the results of _your_ actions brought me and Dean closer together. Dean never picked me over you. _You_ chose the Authority over _us_. We were a _team_. You can't side with the Authority, put your own future selfishly over your brothers, _and_ still have that closeness with us. That 'fondness' for Dean. You can't have it both ways. You chose Kane, Triple H, Steph, J &J. Dean chose me. I chose him. That's what drives you nuts. You think you can have it all. But you _did_ have it all, with us. Maybe more so with Dean than me. But you were selfish. You wanted more. You let go of what you had, and now you're using that as an excuse to punish me and Dean."

"Shut the fuck up!" Seth screeched. "You wanna die, Roman? You wanna fucking die and leave Dean all alone here under Kane? I don't think it would end well."

 _Finally_ , a comment that made Roman drop that simper. Seth gained an advantage. _You don't have control here, big guy. I do_.

"I honestly don't care what you do to me, Rollins," Roman said softly. "You could beat me till I'm numb. Break every bone in my body. Hell, you probably _would_ think about killing me. I don't think you will. I don't think you have it in you."

Seth's jaw dropped to speak, but Roman carried on.

"But I don't care. I really don't. I don't give a shit about you any more than you give a shit about me. But you're right. I do care about Dean. And you know what? I think you still do. That fondness you mentioned before? It's still there. I know it is."

Seth twirled the chair leg. The more he moved it, the more energy his next swing would contain. "Shut up, Roman."

"What the hell do you think I'm gonna do knowing the truth? Think I'll tell Kane? Tell the world? Why does it matter? Nothing past this point right now matters to me except getting Dean the fuck out of here. And if you care about him the way I know you do, you won't sit back and let Kane do anything to him."

Seth yelled out in fury and brought the wood straight down.

It hit the long table and fractured. Tiny bits of broken wood littered the floor, the desk, Roman's legs. Seth stumbled back, somehow exhausted from that action alone, and dropped the wood to the floor. He turned on his heels, hands on his head. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This smug bastard. This arrogant prick. This…

Truth-telling _asshole_.

"Seth," a voice barked.

Kane. He strolled into the conference room, glancing from Seth to Roman and back again. "How's it going in here?" he asked, voice light. Like nothing was wrong.

"Fine," Seth snapped. "How's Ambrose?"

"Out like a light."

The fact gripped Seth's center tight. "Just passed out?"

"Couldn't handle the pain anymore, I guess. And it's no fun torturing him if I can't hear the effect I have on him."

Seth heard an unmistakeable growl from Roman's throat. Kane, encouraged by this, inched towards Roman. He tucked some of Roman's ungroomed black hair behind his ear, then patted his cheek with the back of his hand. "You doing alright, Roman? How you holding up?"

Roman maintained a calm yet dour appearance. Seth pressed his back against the wall, watching. He half-expected Roman to pop out of that chair and hit Kane with a spear move.

"Tell me something, Reigns." He squatted down to reach Roman at eye level. "What did you think was going to happen here tonight? Did you really think Superman was gonna swoop in here, defeat Lex Luther and rescue his Lois Lane? Did you really expect to _win_ coming here tonight? Because you _came_ , and that in itself is already a major loss. You fell victim. You took the bait. You couldn't resist chasing after Dean, no matter where you thought he was. No matter how dangerous it might have been for you. You're such a _sucker_ for the kid."

"I didn't come here to fight with Rollins _or_ you, Kane. I came here to rescue Dean. _He_ is my mission."

Kane laughed soundlessly. Roman was cutthroat in his words. He didn't _sound_ like a sucker, though he was basically admitting Kane was right.

"And when I start something, Kane, I finish it. I stay faithful to my plans. So do what you will with me. But when I get out—and I will get out—I _am_ rescuing Dean. I _am_ going to give you hell for hurting him. Bet on it."

"Such confidence," Kane mused, standing up. "Such strength you've mustered. You've a loud yelp, puppy dog, but when it comes down to it, you're afraid. I don't care what your excuses are. You can talk all big and buff all you like, but on some level, to some degree, you _are_ afraid. And you should be." Kane grinned. "Let's see how tenacious you are once I drag Dean in here and beat him to death. Right in front of you."

Kane stomped towards the door, pausing in front of Seth.

"How _you_ holding up?" Kane asked.

"I said I'm fine," Seth said, annoyed. "Beat the fucking shit out of him. Sorry you missed it. Told you I'm not soft."

"You run your mouth a lot when you're high-strung," Kane noted. "Try to relax, alright? It's almost over."

Kane disappeared from the room.

Seth rubbed the back of his head. What he wanted more than anything right then was just to shower and sleep. Wash himself clean of the dirty deeds he'd performed tonight and sleep away the pain. Inner and outer.

Roman was watching him. Staring.

"You can't let him do that."

He said it plainly as a fact, like he'd just said the sky was blue or Aristotle was Greek. It wasn't a plea, Roman wasn't begging, and he didn't seem to show any signs of desperation (not on the outside, anyway.) Roman said it and meant it. He knew it was true, and he was so sure that Seth would agree…

Before Seth could process another thought, Kane stormed through the door once more.

"He's gone!" he pronounced.

* * *

Roman couldn't help it. In spite of the pain possessing him, the razor-like throbbing that agitated his ribcage every time he took a breath, his mind on the verge of a breakdown from a combination of fatigue and desolation and discomposure…

He was smiling.

It spread over his face like a glob of jelly over a piece of bread. He almost felt like laughing. God, he was relieved. Perhaps Dean was only out of danger for now, but he'd managed to escape. Somehow he wrestled from that bondage and showed Kane up by not showing up at all. Disappearing.

 _That's my boy_ , Roman thought.

"The hell do you mean, he's gone?" Seth asked. Kane, a vein bulging from his forehead to the peak of his smooth scalp, pushed his face down towards Seth's and yelled, "I mean he's _gone_! Not _there_ anymore!"

Seth was trembling. Roman couldn't blame him. Kane was terrifyingly mean even on a good day.

"You think he escaped? Left the building?" Seth inquired.

Kane aimed his irate countenance at Roman. "No. Not without him, he didn't. He's probably hiding."

Roman wanted Kane to be wrong. Dean could leave, get help, call the police. But deep down he knew that wasn't the case. Someone in their right mind might take the opportunity to get the hell out and contact the authorities, the _real_ authorities with _real_ power.

But Dean was not in his right mind.

And Roman knew there'd be no way in heaven, earth or hell he'd ever leave Dean alone here with these goons if he somehow pulled a Harry Houdini.

Kane's nostrils broadened. "Well, if he wants to play hide-and-seek, we'll just have to smoke him out." He wandered behind Roman. Roman wondered what the hell he was doing when suddenly Kane pressed a burning knife to his neck. The skin sizzled beneath the cutting edge. Roman shouted out.

"Get him out of this chair," Kane ordered Seth. "I'm not gonna risk letting this one get away."

Roman didn't fail to register the slight hesitation in Seth's stride. Kane handed Seth his knife, replacing the blade with his hand around Roman's throat. As soon as Seth slashed through the ropes fettering Roman's hands, Kane returned the blade to Roman's neck.

"Walk," he commanded him.

Roman slowly rose from the chair. That blade had to go. Kane pressed it hard against his skin, on the verge of breaking the skin and drawing blood. Roman couldn't imagine how heated metal would feel against an open wound.

He couldn't think about it. Once more he had to wait for an opportunity to strike without failure.

Kane half-pushed, half-led Roman out of the conference room. It was in an entirely separate wing from the office where Roman had found Dean. Kane walked him to the main foyer. Roman's grunts and Kane's growls echoed off the high-scaling walls.

Kane forced Roman to his knees, then pinned the back of Roman's legs to the floor with his portly shins. The knife was losing its burn. Kane seemed to comprehend this and retaliated with stronger force against Roman's flesh. The knife penetrated the rigid skin of Roman's neck. Roman groaned as a single drop of blood expanded at the surface, staining the blade dark red.

"Guess Dean's gone away forever," Kane called with irritating exaggeration. "Nobody here to save you now, Roman. You might have come here tonight to save him, but he's left you behind. I hope he appreciates the sacrifice you're making for him right now."

 _I might lose a finger for trying this_ , Roman thought, ready to instigate his unpolished plan. _But here goes_ —

"KAAAAAAAAAAANE!"

* * *

It wasn't a model escape job. Dean managed to knick himself a couple of times with the blade and the lacerations were uneven, the ropes frayed from his fraught attempts at cutting through. But he made it thanks to diligence.

He reclaimed Roman's jacket and pulled it on over his grimy muscle shirt. Left the blade behind without thinking about it. Wasn't thinking _anything_ except _Get out_.

Any sort of contact his feet made with the floor throbbed insanely. He was forced to stumble down the corridor on his toes alone, the phalanges carrying his weight entirely, his tired body staggering like that of a drunkard's. It was dark, creepily dark in the hallway.

There was a restroom at the end of the hall. Dean had a plan. _You can hang on for me, Roman_ , he thought. _Just for a little bit_.

He pushed the door open. Trudged into the men's restroom. Pounded a light switch on with his fist. Plodded to the counter and lifted himself up with brawn that surprised him. Dean cranked the faucet labeled "Cold" on and slowly inserted his foot beneath the steady flow. It stung like mad but he fought through it. It would feel better in a little while. He gave each of his feet a couple of minutes to cool under the trickling water, took a handful to splash on his face, then turned the faucet off. Gave himself an attempted reassuring smile in the mirror.

Dean left the bathroom. _I need a weapon_ , he realized. He cursed himself for not grabbing Kane's knife. _See how you like it when I burn you with this shit, asshole_. It was too risky to return to the office. He never wanted to see that fucking room again. Plan B, need a Plan B—

Around the corner, the opposite way he'd come, dipped into another hallway. Dean continued to walked on his toes, his feet no longer burning but not wanting to risk walking on them right away just yet. Used the wall to support himself, making his way down the hall.

He rounded the corner and made out a safety cabinet in the darkness. Inside was a large ax. A sign imprinted on the glass invited him to break the glass in case of an emergency.

Dean nearly screamed with delight. Exactly what he needed. "Don't mind if I do," he said. He elbowed the glass. It shattered into dangerous sharp pieces. Dean wasn't concerned with cutting himself on it. He reached into the cabinet and snatched the ax. It was heavier than he'd been expecting. Secured it in a wide grip with two hands.

Kane's voice reverberated from the area where Dean had come from. It was close to the front of the building, the capacious foyer. Dean was a shadow in the hall, streaking down the passage towards whatever Kane was rambling on about. He gripped the ax tight, steadied his walk as the hall opened up to the lobby. Moonlight splashed into the room through large skylights on the ceiling, giving Dean just enough luminescence to apprehend the scene.

Kane was across the way, holding Roman to the ground, pressing the same knife he'd tortured Dean with to Roman's neck. Seth was standing behind the two with his hands over his mouth like he was ready to retch.

 _Here goes_.

"KAAAAAAAAAAANE!"

All three heads craned in his direction. The pale light of the moon cast Dean in a wobbling, pallid approach. His tongue dangled from the right side of his wide-open mouth. He doddered forward. Tried putting some weight on his feet. Still hurt. He lifted to his toes again.

"I'm still here, Kane," Dean sang, letting the dirty name sit on his tongue in spite of the bad taste. "Couldn't stop me."

Kane smiled like he'd accomplished something big. Even though it was Dean's plan to come out here all along. He twisted Roman around to face Dean, held the tip of the knife up to Roman's jugular.

After a sharp exhale, Dean said, "Hi, Roman. Good to see you again."

"You'll see his throat slashed here in a few seconds if you don't put down your weapon," Kane said. His deep voice was sturdy. Was he actually afraid of the Lunatic Fringe bearing an ax?

No more afraid than Dean was of that damn knife at Roman's throat.

But one look at Roman Reigns gave him some insight. Roman seemed to nod in his direction. He had something figured out. Dean followed suit.

"Don't hurt him!" Dean said. He meant it. But he said it on purpose to convince Kane he had all the cards. No tricks. Dean would totally surrender. Sure thing. Dean held the ax in front of him, dropped it to the floor, kept his hands in the air above him so Kane would realize he didn't have any other weapons on him.

"All you," Dean said.

Kane raised an eyebrow.

Roman made his move.

With one hand he grabbed the knife and clutched the dull edge, drove it away from his throat. With the other arm he threw an elbow back and hit Kane in the chest. When Kane tugged on the knife to regain possession, the blade sliced the bend in Roman's fingers. Better to bleed from the hand than get stabbed anywhere. Roman locked Kane's arm beneath his and pried the knife out of his grip, giving himself another laceration. This one was deeper, across his palm. He held on strong and finally acquired ownership of the weapon.

Dean was anxious to enter the battle, but he didn't want to risk injuring Roman. He watched Seth instead, who'd backed up and looked just as unsure whether or not he should take place. Dean really should have gone after _him_ with the ax…

And you know what, why the fuck not?

Dean charged at Seth. Ignoring his screaming feet. Swinging the ax like a deranged warrior on the front line. The intent wasn't to decapitate the fucker—there was a good chance he'd miss or mess up and the results would be messy. Seth turned as if to flee, and Dean brought down the side of the blade onto Seth's shoulder. Seth crumpled under the force, his face warped from the soreness. Dean raised the ax to hit him again. Seth rolled out of the way, lashing his foot out, knocking into Dean's leg. Dean couldn't support himself in the attack, and he went down. He refused to let go of the ax.

Kane meanwhile had a clear advantage over Roman, in near-perfect health, but Roman strived for everything his body _didn't_ want to do. He tried spearing Kane with the switchblade, but Kane was quick to dodge every strike. Kane grabbed Roman's arm on the next swing, twisted it, bending Roman's bloody fingers with his own robust digits. Roman, clearly in too much pain, released the knife. It glided several feet away, too far for Roman to get it back. He resorted to good old-fashioned shit-destroying techniques of his own talent. He swung his fist into Kane's jaw, switching from his left hand to his right as a quick way to prevent quick requital. Kane lowered his head and butted Roman in the ribs, forcing Roman to bend forward. He lifted Roman up and flung him over his shoulders. Roman hit the ground hard behind Kane, near a long wooden table. Kane managed to seize Roman again before Roman could move, launched him into the table. Roman's body broke the wood in his fall. The corner of the table lodged itself between two ribs. Kane wasn't finished. He jumped onto Roman, crushed the Powerhouse to the floor through the former table, now a collection of fragmented planks.

Dean looked over. _Fuck_ , Roman needed him. Wasn't every day it was potentially up to _him_ to save Roman Reigns. He couldn't count how many times Roman had stepped in on his behalf and kicked some ass. Primarily the Authority's. And Seth Rollins's. But Seth was in this now, too.

Maybe not all the way.

Seth took advantage of Dean's distraction and kicked Dean in the face. Dean was knocked back half a foot, still on the ground, but tried to play unfazed. He pushed himself onto his elbows, still upholding the ax handle, now serving as a defensive weapon. Seth rolled onto his feet and kicked Dean in the stomach. Dean curled up, still on his back, _still_ holding the ax. Seth knelt down and took hold of it, his hands in the middle of the handle with Dean's gripping either side near the end and the blade. Seth tried yanking it out of Dean's grip to no avail. Then he switched strategies and pushed it forward, driving the long haft towards Dean's throat. Dean pushed against Seth's shaking thrust, protecting himself from a damaged trachea.

"Don't make me hurt you, Dean," Seth growled. Was his voice quaking so badly because he was weary or…inadequate? Not incapable but unwilling? Dean knew Seth was strong. He'd kicked Dean's ass plenty of time in the past. But for some reason, now…now felt like Seth was really holding back. He didn't _look_ spent beyond his adroitness, but maybe…

Maybe spent past his inclination.

Too bad Dean didn't feel the same way.

He kicked Seth from behind. The effort was enough to make Seth lose his balance, cave in on Dean's body. From this angle Dean tightened his grip on the ax and struck Seth in the face, the stock smashing into Seth's nose. Seth had no choice but to slither away backwards, holding his face in pain. Dean sprung to his feet—bad idea, he realized, as his tender tootsies throbbed. He ignored it. Had to. Had to get to Roman. Had to had to had to take that Seth you dirty fucking snake that's what you get for fucking with me and my Roman Reigns—

Dean couldn't resist. Another kick to the head, another swing of the axe. The cheek of the cutting edge splitting Seth's cheek open. Maybe he broke a bone. Didn't know. Didn't care. He swung the ax around in one rotation and went for Kane.

He thought Roman was out for good. Not dead but unable to fight any longer. Dean to the rescue. He jabbed the back of Kane's head with the ax handle. Kane whirled around. Dean swung the ax again with a crazed cry. How in the fuck did Kane manage to _catch the ax_ by the handle mid-swing, thrust it aside like it was nothing…Dean's marvel was interrupted when Kane captured him, gripping the collar of Roman's jacket tight, and casting him like a baseball around and into the same table he'd deposited Roman. In a mirrored assail he leaped up and brought his entire weight onto Dean. One of the wood pieces, now only good as kindling, pierced Dean in the stomach under the load. He flailed like a fish on land, trying to get to his back so the plank would cease in its plunge towards his pylorus.

Beside him he heard Roman groan.

"Come on, Roman," he said, his own voice in a groan. "We gotta get up. Gotta keep fighting."

Roman's first movement was to push hair from his eyes.

Kane hovered over them like a lion closing in on two zebras.

Dean was surprised when Roman beat him to his next move. Great minds thinking alike and all that. Roman grabbed one of the shattered table pieces and flung it at Kane. Kane shielded his face to protect himself, stumbled backwards a bit. It was a long enough distraction for Dean to scurry to his feet. He kept Kane off Roman by snatching his own piece of the table and driving it against Kane's legs—more specifically, the back of his knee. Kane dropped to one knee. Roman staggered to his feet and kneed Kane in the face. Kane now rested on both knees, clearly dazed. Dean moved to smash his fucking bald-ass head in when Seth came up behind him.

Wrapped an arm around his throat.

And drilled the switchblade into his back. Twice.

The blade was small. It didn't do much damage on its own. But it could do _enough_ , enough to make Dean drop his makeshift sword. To make his breath catch in his throat like a fly in a web. His eyes roll almost to the back of his head.

Roman's voice was an echo. "DEAN!"

Dean fell into Seth's hold, who cradled him towards the floor, then let him drop. Seth was atop Dean in an instant, straddling him, holding the knife to his former brother's throat.

Dean's eyes rotated from top to bottom, focused in on Roman. The vision of his hero and his light was blurry, fading, slowly. He had just enough awareness to see Roman fighting to get to Dean, but Kane holding him back, pinning him in place with a grip on Reigns's shoulders, forcing him to witness this now and what was to come.

Dean was also fully aware, somehow, of Seth entirely. The way his eyes were faltering. His breath unsteady. His quivering, quivering, badly so badly quivering grip.

Kane's voice. An irritating ringing. A church bell gonging too early on a Sunday morning when you were up till five AM the night before drinking and partying. In the moment Dean really, _really_ hated Kane's voice.

"Finish him, Seth," Kane encouraged. "This is your chance to prove your loyalty to me. To the Authority."

Seth blinked, his lips opening to let a breath out that he seemed to have been holding for a long time. He blinked again. Wait a minute. Was he blinking back tears?

Regret for an action he'd yet to commit?

Dean felt the knife at his throat. It felt cold somehow, now. Cold and heavy.

"NO!" Roman bellowed. Lashing against Kane's relentless hold. Kane put six inches between his body and Roman's, pulling his arms back towards him and pushing Roman forward with his foot as far as he could before his shoulders snapped out of their sockets.

"FINISH HIM!" Kane roared.


	6. Chapter 6

_Do it. Do it_.

Seth's teeth clamped down on his lip.

 _For fuck's sake, Rollins_!

Roman's words rattled in his head like a pebble in a tin can.

" _You're right. I do care about Dean. And you know what? I think you still do. That fondness you mentioned before? It's still there. I know it is._ "

Seth's throat tightened. He couldn't breathe.

" _We were all brothers, Seth_."

 _Get out of my head, Reigns_.

Dean's eyes hadn't lost their color. Blue-green, like a powerful sea. A powerful sea that could be tranquil. A monster capable of destruction and peace all at once.

Just like Dean.

" _Dean never picked me over you. You chose the Authority over us. We were a team_."

Seth growled audibly.

"FINISH HIM!" Kane screamed. "COME ON!"

" _If you care about him the way I know you do, you won't sit back and let Kane do anything to him_."

Dean's big eyes. Such innocent…so much life left in the guy…so much to live for…

"Fuck," Seth whispered. He shoved hair from his face. A bead of sweat hit him in the eye.

He pushed himself off Dean, holding the knife, drawing it away from Dean's skin.

Kane was shocked. Seth didn't expect anything more. Kane seemed so appalled that he lost his focus on controlling Roman. Roman yanked out of his arms and rushed over, passing Seth and dropping to his knees before Dean. Seth was aware of the dark, warm blood conglomerating beneath Roman's jacket through the stab wounds.

Seth stood in front of them, staring Kane down. He wished he had time to recover that fire ax, but that risked getting too close to Kane, and leaving Roman and Dean vulnerable and open to attack. Instead he rooted himself to that spot, upholding the knife he'd used to gore Dean.

They weren't going to suffer anymore.

Kane shook his head. "So this is how it's going to be then, Seth? All you've worked for, everything I've ever done for you…you're throwing it all away."

Seth was more focused on the conversation going on behind him.

"Are you okay?" Roman asked.

"Eh, I'm fine," Dean said, groaning to counter his statement, then laughing at himself for it. "Just a flesh wound."

"Dude, you got stabbed in the back."

"You've got a broken arm and ribs. I'll live."

Roman chuckled softly. Seth heard shuffling. In his peripheral vision he saw Roman helping Dean to his feet. How the guy could still stand—how either of them could stand so tall—after all that had happened, was an enigma.

Kane sighed. "Fine, Rollins. That's just fine. Should have seen it coming, really. You're a spineless, cowardly, timid little weasel. You can't do _anything_ for yourself."

Seth didn't say anything. Kane wouldn't get to him. He turned his head to give orders to Roman. "Get Dean out of here."

Neither Dean nor Roman moved. When Seth looked back, he saw they were exchanging a look. A look he recognized. A look he hadn't shared with them in well over a year. A look they suddenly received him in with arms wide open.

 _Hello, brother_.

"We're not leaving here without you," Roman said.

"What? Come on. Get out."

"Why don't we all bail?" Dean asked, voice clearly in a struggle.

That was a better idea. But Seth knew Kane wasn't going to just let them leave.

He gestured with his hand for Roman and Dean to walk with him. Still taking stance in front of them, a protective stance, he moved with them step by step towards the front door.

"I'm a lot faster than you, Seth," Kane said, angry but adamant. "A lot stronger."

Seth kept walking. He held out an arm in front of Roman and Dean, as though to shield them from anything and everything that could have jumped them.

"You sure you want to do this?"

 _Fuck you, Kane_. Seth went wordless. They were just yards away from the door now.

"Fine. So be it."

 _Bring it on_.

Kane let out an angry cry and rushed at the boys.

Seth thought he was ready to defend his former brothers—former—his brothers. Defend himself. As Kane approached him, all three-hundred and twenty four pounds coming at him like a storm, he readied the knife and swung to slash something. Any part of him that would stop the charging bull in his tracks.

But the knife, though it severed Kane across the forearm, seemed to have no effect on him at all. Kane kept coming. He tackled Seth to the ground, his bleeding arm hitting Seth's jugular. Kane seemed to have an incredible fascination with the throat. Seth hit the ground, smacking his head on a tile. Kane lassoed his arms around Seth's brawny figure and pinned him to the ground, trying to throttle him. A Choke Slam in reverse. Seth desperately tried to gulp down air for his blackening lungs.

Roman stepped in to help. He knocked a punch into the side of Kane's head, a tender, purple area where Dean had nailed him with the ax. Kane subsided in a daze. Roman wasn't done. He kicked Kane in the head again. Kane went down further. Roman sent his foot against Kane's skull twice more. Dean came hobbling around and dropped to his knees, sending blow after blow to Kane's jaw. Kane reached out and grabbed Dean's throat. Dean pried at Kane's arms to get him off. Kane lifted Dean by the throat, even from the ground, and tossed him aside like a used towel.

Roman wasn't having that. Neither was Seth. Roman got to the floor flat on his belly, looped an arm beneath Kane's swelling jaw, and yanked forward. He'd put Kane in his own move, a famous chokehold. _Serves you right, you piece of shit_. Seth assisted by kicking Kane in the gut over and over. Kane, his face red with rage and oxygen deprivation, reacted to this 2-on-1 by lifting his legs up and over his form, kicking Seth in the face on their way over, backflipping onto Roman. He wrapped his arms around Roman's neck and compressed the nape tight. Seth knew he could and would snap Roman's neck if given enough time.

Dean was up and ready to lend a hand again. He used the upper half of his body, his stronger area, to tackle Kane, driving him off Roman. Dean rolled over Kane, landing on his knees on Kane's left. Seth trotted over while Dean continued his mad assault on Kane's cranium.

On Kane's other side, Seth looked to Dean. He tried delivering a message, reveal what he was thinking. Dean registered the mien perfectly the way he so often had in the past. He read the idea as if text was printed on Seth's face. Damn, did he look excited for this one. Seth couldn't lie. He was, too.

Seth pitched an arm under Kane's. Dean mirrored the move on Kane's left arm. Roman looked ready and eager for this plan. He couldn't resist letting out his masculine call as Dean and Seth lifted Kane into the air together. Roman grabbed Kane's legs and settled them on his shoulders. The Shield members positioned themselves for the finisher and launched Kane in a Triple Powerbomb. His body smacked against the hard floor. He didn't move.

Seth glanced at the front door. A Hispanic man with dozens of keys on a large ring was fumbling to unlock the front doors. It was dawn. The sky was ablaze with pink and orange.

 _Oh, shit_. This business would open soon. They had to leave.

"Come on guys, we gotta go." Seth pressed against Dean, draping Dean's arm around his shoulder, letting Dean use him as a crutch. He was evidently having trouble walking on his own. He noticed Roman overshadowing Kane, prowling around him. Roman wanted revenge for everything he'd done, to him, to Dean especially. Seth knew it. But now was not the time. Now was the time to escape before they were caught.

"Roman!" he shouted. "Let's GO!"

Roman spit on Kane and muttered something. Then he walked over to Dean and Seth. He scooped Dean up, lifting him into his arms, cradling him. Seth limped with Roman, not exactly side-by-side with the Samoan but not exactly behind either.

The janitor pulled the door open and froze at the sight of the wrestlers.

"'Sup?" Seth asked. They awkwardly brushed past him. Roman carried Dean to the car.

"Hang on, little buddy," he whispered. "We're getting you help."

They trudged towards Roman's rental car. Seth pulled the passenger door open for Roman. Roman gently lowered Dean into the seat, zipped up the jacket to keep him as warm as possible, and buckled the seatbelt. Dean was depleted. His head swayed slowly from side to side, his eyes refusing to open on their own. Roman gently touched Dean's cheek and brushed some hair from his face.

Seth bit the inside of his cheek. _Can't believe I'm jealous of_ this.

Roman slammed the door closed. He stalked to the driver's seat. Seth opened the back door for himself and dropped inside. Roman started up the car, rubbed his hands together for heat of friction, and cranked the warm air on. Before pulling out of the spot, he eyed Seth in the rearview mirror.

"Thank you."

"No," Seth said, shaking his head. He scoffed at himself. "Thank _you_."

* * *

The janitor jumped again when he noticed Kane sprawled out on the floor. He nervously approached the stout individual.

"Sir?" he called. "Are you alright?"

Kane took several minutes to sit up. The poor man looked confused and frightened that Kane would do something awful to him. Kane pulled himself to his feet and stared the janitor down.

"Just get to work and don't say a word," he said softly. " _Comprende_?"

The janitor nodded and scurried off.

Kane glared out the window, watching Roman's car pull out of the parking lot. He just grinned to himself. This was far from over.

* * *

The next twenty-four hours were a blur.

The last thing Roman remembered was listening to Seth give him directions to the Sky Ridge Medical Center. Once he pulled into a spot, certainly at a crooked angle due to the lack of sleep in his vision, and caught sight of the automatic sliding doors leading into the facility, his memory was muddy.

Bits and pieces of the day came to him in a dream form. He thought he remembered calling for Dean, a lot. Asking to see him. Someone telling him no. The words _emergency surgery_ , _severe lacerations_ and _blood loss_ were very loud in his ear, repeated over and over again. Then Seth's voice: "Look, we'll give you autographs, tickets to a show, whatever you want. Just don't let _anyone_ know we're here, for the love of God."

Roman remembered smiling at that. He might have even laughed.

He woke up in a hospital bed. The room was fairly large for one patient. He was sitting up in bed, his right arm in a sling, his left in a cast, his hand in a bandage from where Kane had sliced his fingers. A thin white layer of gauze enclosed his ribs, but not so tight that he couldn't breathe. He peeled off white bandages on his arm and withdrew two IVs from his veins. The machine beeped at him, but he ignored it. He didn't want to be in here. He felt fine. What he wanted was to check on Dean. And Seth, if he'd stuck around. If he required any treatment.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, dressed in a hospital gown far too small for his entire physique. _I look silly_.

A nurse with curly brown hair practically ran into the room at the screeching machines. "I'm so sorry, but you need to stay in bed and rest," she told him. She was at least a foot shorter than him. Roman looked down at her and tried to be polite.

"I need to see Dean," he said. His voice was husky, even more so than usual. He wondered when the last time he'd drank anything was. "Please."

"Which one's Dean?" she asked, clutching a clipboard to her chest. Even in his dulcet tone, he'd managed to freak her out. _Nice going_.

"Uh…blond hair. Blue eyes. Kinda short."

She still looked confused.

"He had bad burns on his feet."

Suddenly her face lit up in revelation. Her eyes sparkled with compassion. "Oh! Oh, oh, oh. Right. That guy. I felt so awful for him." She glanced down at her clipboard, then back up at him. Roman got it. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to relay this information to him. "And you are…?"

"Family," Roman said.

"Okay. He got out of surgery about two hours ago. Doctors had to remove all the dead tissue and replace it with skin grafts."

"Where'd you get the skin from?"

"His legs. They didn't take much. He'll recover just fine, be right as rain. He just needs to take it easy. Maybe get involved in some physical therapy."

Of course Dean would be fine. He'd made it through worse, much worse. Roman was more anxious than ever to see him now. "Where is he?"

"Room 413. I'll take you there now."

"I'd appreciate it."

On the walk, the nurse relayed everything on Roman's medical report. Eight of his twelve ribs broken, broken arms, fractured shoulder, head trauma. Roman tuned her out as she listed off Dean's injuries. It didn't matter what was wrong with him, _had_ been wrong. What mattered was he was safe now. Nobody could hurt him anymore.

Nobody _would_.

The nurse stopped in front of Room 413. She knocked on the open door and poked her head in before allowing Roman to enter.

"He's asleep," the nurse whispered.

"Alright."

Roman stepped past her. The room was quiet except for the heart monitor singing the glorious tune of a steady heartbeat within Dean's chest. It was the most peaceful sound he'd ever heard in his life. Dean Ambrose was in a well-deserved sleep in his bed. His feet were propped up on an elevated pillow, veiled in snow-white bandages. Another great bandage wrapped him up securely around his chest and his back. Dark gray bruises clouded the sky of his skin, from his arms to his neck to his face. The bruises around his eyes had lightened from purple to yellow.

But he was safe.

Roman pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat in silence for a long time, indulging in the heart monitor's melody. He watched Dean protectively, then leaned back and closed his eyes in his own rest for a little while. When he opened them again, Dean was still asleep. He was in no rush for Dean to awaken. He reached for Dean's hand and took his fingers in a gentle grip, rubbing the top of his hand with his thumb.

Dean shifted in his sleep. Roman watched his eyes flit open. Dean smiled when his focus locked on Roman. The heart monitor was beeping a bit faster now.

"Hey, Roman," he said.

"Hey, Dean," Roman answered. He was happy, so happy that Dean was awake. Alive. He squeezed his hand tight, careful not to cause him anymore harm. "How are you feeling?"

Dean's bottom lip jutted out as he pondered the answer to that question. After a while he finally replied, "Pissed."

"Why are you pissed?"

"I never got my fucking taco, man."

Roman laughed. "Tell you what. Once we get out of here, I'll buy you as many tacos as you want."

"Shit, I'll bankrupt you in that case." Dean chuckled. Facially he looked as though there wasn't a thing wrong in the world. The smile on his face faltered slightly when he asked, "Where's Seth?"

"Haven't seen him."

"Can you believe what he did?"

"I can't believe _anything_ he did, throughout all of it. Then again, he's always been a fickle little guy."

"He saved us," Dean noted. "In spite of everything, he did save us."

"Yeah. I guess so." Roman still didn't know what to think of the situation entirely. He was too tired to wonder what Seth was thinking, what his heart was saying, what his future would contain. He had himself and Dean to consider above all. But Dean had a point. Seth had turned, again, this time for the greater good.

He'd played a role of heroism last night. Yesterday. Two days ago? Whenever all went down. Strange.

"Think he'll wanna get the band back together?" Dean inquired.

"Hell if I know. But let's let you heal up before going back to work."

Dean scoffed. "Man, I feel like a million bucks." He shook his head, letting his hair fly.

"You look it, too."

"You're damn right." Dean grinned. His eyes descended to his hand. Roman was still holding it. Roman's heart pounded. Was he going to say anything? Was this okay? Should he let go?

"That feels good," he said softly.

"Yeah?" Roman asked.

"Yeah. Feels…right." Dean squeezed Roman's fingers. "I'm glad you're here, Roman."

"Yeah. Me too."

Roman interlocked his fingers with Dean's. His heart was going crazy and he loved the feeling. He lifted Dean's hand to his lips and kissed them softly. _No trouble admitting it now. I am in love with Dean Am—_

Dean suddenly reached out, grabbed Roman by the gown, pulled him forward and pressed Roman's lips into his.

The world stopped turning. Roman heard nothing, felt nothing, but Dean's raw presence. His heart blossoming with love, veins rupturing from deep affection. He pushed into Dean fervently, taking the taste of him in like a parched animal. Roman dared to let his lips open, and Dean took full advantage, thrusting his tongue into his mouth and wrestling with Roman's. Roman felt strong and weak all at once. Huge and tiny, all at once. An injured man healed. A fighter with a frailty. A wrestler with a weakness, a weakness in human form by the name of Dean Ambrose.

Roman's bliss was interrupted when another presence interfered in his surroundings, interrupting the ambiance. He felt it and it was too distracting to ignore. Roman gently pulled away from Dean. Dean was left in a daze, breathless. Though he'd been the one to instigate, he was left just as startled as Roman had been at the beginning of their first kiss.

"Wow," he breathed, eyes closed. His lips uplifted into a cheesy grin. "That was as perfect as I imagined it'd be."

Roman remembered the presence. He turned his head to catch Seth lingering in the doorway. He looked stiff and uncomfortable. Like he didn't belong. At this moment, he definitely didn't. _Shoo_ , he resisted saying aloud.

"Dean," he said, strolling into the room with his fists jammed in his jeans' pockets. Roman was immediately jealous, protective of Dean. _Who invited you in here, Rollins_? Then he remembered Seth had done some good. An honor worth mentioning later, when Roman and Dean weren't…busy.

Seth didn't seem to mind cutting in. "How ya doing, kid?"

Roman knew Dean hated that nickname. "I'm okay. What about you?"

Seth stood at the foot of the bed. "Hanging in there."

"They patch you up nice and pretty?"

Seth shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't have much wrong with me. They looked me over, found a couple of bruised bones. Nothing I'm not used to already. Wrote me a prescription for pain killers and checked me out. Didn't even need stitches for my cheek."

Dean seemed way too forgiving. Roman didn't think he would be able to trust Seth again for a little while. Sure, he'd saved them, but did that mean the three were going to be buddy-buddy again? Work together for the first time in a year like Seth wasn't a backstabbing weasel? They might have fought hard together against Kane, but reality was settling back in. Seth couldn't be trusted. No matter what. Perhaps ever again.

Thinking about it still took up too much energy. _Too tired. Happy, but tired_.

"I just came by to check up on you, and…" Seth's eyes met the floor. "For what it's worth…" Roman watched him lick his lips and rub his throat. Was this really so hard to spit out?

Finally Seth made himself stare at Dean. "I'm sorry. About all this. For everything." He shifted his gaze to Roman. "You too, Roman."

Dean sighed. "Thanks, Seth."

No "I forgive you." No "apology accepted." Seth seemed acceptant of that. He probably wasn't expecting forgiveness, mercy or any sort of pardon. Refusing to kill Dean after, quite literally, stabbing him in the back wasn't exactly restitution.

"We appreciate it," Roman stated.

Dean pursed his lips together. "See you guys around, I guess."

"Probably not at Smackdown, though," Dean said, chuckling weakly.

"Considering that's tomorrow night, probably not," Seth agreed.

Roman didn't even want to think about work. How the network would respond. How the _Authority_ would respond. He shut out all thoughts of Kane, his opponents in the WWE, Smackdown, Raw, all of it. Shut it out, left it in the cold while he and Dean were left to warm up and rest inside.

It was quiet. Roman gave Seth a look he hoped he could read without getting offended. Seth let out a long sigh and rubbed his neck.

"See ya," he said again.

"See ya," Dean echoed.

"Bye, Seth," Roman said. He watched Seth slog out of the room, defeated.

"You tired?" Roman asked Dean.

After a yawn that stretched over his face and ended with a high-pitched breath out, Dean answered, "No. Not at all."

Roman smiled. "I'll let you rest, Dean. You need it."

"Wait." Dean took Roman's hand again. "Could you…stay? Please?"

Roman's heart erupted. "Of course." He had an idea. He gestured for Dean to scoot over. Dean adjusted to the left side of the bed, and Roman drew the sheet back and crawled onto the bed beside him. He endeavored to get the sling off his arm. He didn't need a stupid sling. He turned onto his side and pulled the blanket over him, over Dean's shoulders to keep them warm. He dropped his right arm across Dean and held him protectingly. Dean snuggled in close to Roman. His breath was warm and sweet on Roman's neck.

Dean fell asleep first. Roman held him there, his fingers caressing Dean's back, listening to Dean slowly breathe in and out. He kissed his hair, then fell into his own sleep. He had a feeling if any nurses saw them, they wouldn't be foolish enough to disrupt them.

* * *

Dean nearly burst out laughing when the hospital told the two of them how long they'd need to stay to fully heal. For Dean it was a few weeks, for Roman, minimum of _six_. To hell with that. They had lives to live, things to do. Roman insisted they stay at least another night, but that was it. Dean was fine with that. It gave him another night in bed close to his Roman Reigns. But he couldn't wait to sleep through a whole night without listening to that damn heart monitor all night, nurses coming in every few hours to change their bandages. At least they never made Roman go back to his own room.

Roman and Dean had to sign some papers telling the hospital they wouldn't sue if they got home and turned out to not be completely healed yet. It was freezing outside. Snowflakes whipped in a fierce winter wind.

"Where do we go now?" Dean asked in the safety of Roman's car.

"Dunno," Roman said, cranking the engine on. "But one thing's for sure. I really don't feel like going to Atlanta."

"Oh, hell _no_ ," Dean said. "I don't wanna travel _anywhere_. I just wanna chill somewhere for a while."

"Well, we've still got that hotel room," Roman mentioned.

"Hey, yeah. Might as well put our money to _some_ good use."

"Before we head back, you still want some tacos?"

Dean grinned a stretched smile. "Aw, you remembered."

They ordered twenty tacos and eight burritos from Marg's Taco Bistro. A meal long overdue. They brought the food back to the hotel, gave the concierge at the desk a wave as if to say, "Yeah, we still belong here."

In the hotel room, Dean plowed through half the tacos and managed to wolf down two burritos before deciding to give his stomach a break. He felt disgusting. Hadn't had a real shower in a while.

He handed Roman his jacket back and pulled off his muscle shirt. It had been washed at the hospital, but he still felt dirty wearing it. He wanted to trash it, forget the shirt ever existed, along with memories tied to the night he last wore it.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it," Dean said. Roman hung it on a hook.

"Sure thing."

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"I'll be here."

Dean wanted to shower with Roman. How fucking sexy would that be? But they'd just had their first kiss. Dean didn't want to seem desperate. They were on the right track to where Dean wanted to be. He could be patient. Taking their time was okay. Rushing might have ruined everything.

Dean stood in a warm shower for over half an hour, letting the hot water untangle his muscles, loosen his tight configuration. He'd popped a few pills earlier and the effects were in full swing, so he could hardly feel his healing feet. He turned the water off and grabbed for a fluffy white towel. Stepped out of the shower carefully, wiped steam off the mirror, patted his dripping body down while looking himself over.

What did Roman see in him?

Whatever it was, he was happy. So happy that every time he thought back to that kiss, he couldn't help but fucking _smile_. Nothing had ever made him smile so damn much. Not any victory as a wrestler. Not any title or championship belt. Not even knocking Seth to the ground when he deserved it.

Roman made him happy.

Dean caught himself smiling like an idiot now. He poked his tongue through his teeth at his reflection, wrapped a towel around his waist, vacated the steamy bathroom.

Roman was asleep in bed in front of the news. He looked so handsome. Strong, brawny, strapping, like a true Prince Charming. A real Superman. His hero. Dean felt it safe to redress himself out here. He pulled a pair of jeans over his legs and dug through his suitcase for a shirt to wear. He settled on his black DEAN UNSTABLE AMBROSE tee. It was a bit chilly in the hotel room in spite of the blizzard outside.

He spotted Roman's jacket on the hook. "Ah, what the hell," he said. Put it back on. If he wore it enough Roman would just give it to him. But Dean would never call the jacket his own. It'd always be Roman's. It felt more special when he wore it that way.

Dean laid next to Roman in bed, tried to invest in the news. Nothing was worth listening to until a story came on about the death of a WWE wrestler. Dean's heart dropped to his stomach, hearing the reporter pronounce that monster's name again. Bray Wyatt found dead from stab wounds at a garage off Grove Street. No suspects yet. Dean remembered the camera. Had Roman found it before ditching Bray's body? That was pretty damning evidence.

He felt sick to his stomach. Grabbed the remote. Switched the channel.

What was on didn't matter. Dean turned over and tried to get some more sleep.

He woke a long time later. Roman was still out. Poor guy had been through so much, far more than Dean had been through. Far worse. He deserved his rest. What drove Dean to awaken was a buzzing. Roman's phone on the nightstand. Dean carefully reached over Roman's slumbering frame to check it out, in case it was important.

Roman had a picture message. The preview of the photo alone was enough to make Dean almost vomit again.

A battered, bloodied Seth slumped on the ground, stained blood beneath his fallen figure. The picture came with an ominous message. Two words.

YOU'RE NEXT!


	7. Chapter 7

Seth awoke with a start, gasping and shouting like he'd just woken from a dreadful nightmare.

Or woken _into_ one.

The panic worsened when he realized he couldn't move. He was lying flat on his belly. He tried shaking at whatever was tying him down, but it made his muscles catch fire. That was right. He'd been attacked before blacking out.

So where was he now?

Seth struggled to control his breathing. He was handling his revelation of distress much worse than Dean and Roman had. _In slowly, out slowly_ , he commanded himself. _You let yourself freak out, you'll pass out again_. It took three or four minutes before he finally settled his heart rate to a steady speed. He took each break in with great caution and cast it out just the same.

 _Okay, Rollins. Think. Focus. What happened_?

He closed his eyes and remembered the yellow-demon eyes that gazed down at him during the assault. Before the blackout.

Kane's.

"Shit," he whispered. Kane had followed him. Caught up somehow. Now he was in trouble. Perhaps there was a way to get Kane's forgiveness. He'd gotten it before. Kane liked him, right? Surely Kane would understand, right? Desperate times, desperate measures?

All Seth had to cling to was hope. Dean and Roman were God knew where. Unless Kane had managed to track them down, too…reclaim them as prisoners…

A light flashed on. Seth blinked, his eyes overran by glare. He closed them, let them settle down, then opened them again. He gasped as he realized he was in the center of a wrestling ring.

Even worse, _hogtied_ in the center of a wrestling ring.

Seth caught the sound of pounding footsteps. Heels clacking against a hard floor. He strained his neck to look up. His throat dried up like cotton when he saw Triple H and Stephanie McMahon sauntering down the way. Right towards him. Neither of them looked too thrilled to see him.

 _Oh, God, I am screwed, I am so screwed_. The most he could move was rocking back and forth on his stomach like a snake.

Triple H hoisted himself onto the ring, then assisted Steph

"H-hey, Triple H, Steph," Seth tried. There was no hiding the rattling in his voice. He was scared shitless. "How's it going?"

"You're in _no_ position to talk, Seth," Stephanie thundered.

Seth closed his mouth.

Stephanie looked at Triple H, who nodded at her. She walked high and tall on her red heels, pacing the floor in front of Seth. "So let me try to understand what's been happening over these past couple of days." She counted the points off on her fingers. "You _kidnapped_ Dean Ambrose. You _kidnapped_ Roman Reigns."

 _Fuck, is she gonna have me arrested? My career is over. It's so fucking over. I'm so fucking done_.

"You _had them_ under your _complete control_. Even called on _Kane_ for assistance. A very wise decision on your part, since you _clearly_ can't handle anything on your fucking own!" She screamed the last few words. "Somehow you managed to not only _let them both get away_ , but you _turned on Kane_!? After everything this organization has done for you, you go _crawling back_ to the scum of Reigns and _Ambrose_?"

Wait. She was happy he'd taken those two prisoner? Glad? Up until now, of course. He watched her walk, afraid she'd thrust one of those tall-ass heels into his eye if he said the wrong thing.

"Well?" she demanded. "Is that the situation as I know it?"

 _Lie_ , he thought. _Just lie. It's all you can do_. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

The heel of the shoe hit him, but mercifully in the stomach instead of the eye. It still hurt like hell.

"You're goddamn right, you're sorry," Triple H bellowed. "You're lucky we're in charge around here instead of Kane. He wanted to strap your ass to a boulder and fling you into the ocean."

Seth counted his blessings.

"But that doesn't mean you're getting away with defying us like that," Stephanie assured. "Oh, no. You'll pay for that one."

It still confounded Seth that Stephanie and Triple H were more concerned with his turning on Kane than the hefty list of charges the police would hit him with. It didn't mean he was in any less trouble. In fact, he was more terrified of what these two could do to him than any policemen or judge in the nation.

They must have _really_ had it out for Dean and Roman.

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" Seth stammered.

"Oh, we're not gonna do anything to you," Triple H said. The grin was unnerving. "We spoke to an old friend who said he'd give us a hand. You love to call others for aid so much, so we decided to take a page out of your book."

Seth felt someone standing behind him. He twisted his body as much as his bondage allowed. His insides grew rigid. His heart almost gave out on him.

Brock Lesnar stood over him, arms folded over his chest, feet spread apart. And just _smiling_.

Seth looked to Triple H and Stephanie, pleading with his eyes. "Come on, guys, no. You can't do this to me."

"Oh, we can't turn you over?" Steph asked. "The way you turned Kane over in favor of those two sons of bitches? Hmm?"

Brock was enjoying watching Seth shake like a leaf. He bent down and pet Seth like a dog across the head.

"Don't touch me," Seth commanded. "Don't touch me!"

Brock picked Seth up, who wriggled in his bondage. Dropping to the floor, hitting the mat from this height, would feel like a wonderful massage compared to _anything_ Brock had in store for him—

A ringing chimed in the arena. The ring of a phone.

It was Stephanie's. She glanced at the screen and smiled. "Seems the boys received our message."

 _Boys_? Dean and Roman?

Stephanie nodded to Brock, who dropped Seth back to the ground. _There's your fucking massage_ , he could imagine Brock spitting in his ear.

Stephanie answered the phone. "Roman, darling. Where've you been?"

* * *

"What the hell does that mean, you're next?" Dean asked as soon as he'd shaken Roman awake and showed him the picture of Seth. "That's gonna happen to us?" He pointed a thumb at the horrifying photo.

Roman licked his lips. "It means we escaped the wrath of Kane. And they're not happy about it."

"They?"

"I'm guessing the Authority's responsible for this." He gripped the phone tight. "Kane told them Seth helped us out, and now they're pissed."

"Sounds like them." Dean huffed. "Dammit, I thought this was over. Now the entire Authority is after us?" He paced the orange carpet of the hotel room, running his fingers through his slightly wet hair. "What are we gonna do, Roman?"

Roman was asking himself the same question. Dean's panic helped him remain a bit calmer than his…what was Dean to him now? More than a friend, but were they official yet? In a relationship? Couldn't call him a brother now, that was off the table—it didn't matter. He needed to get them out of this.

"They're not going to leave us alone," Roman said, feeling he was stating the obvious. He pulled back the curtain and watched the snow tumble and turn in the air, cartwheel to the ground. Piles in the parking lot were already up to four inches high. "They'll find a way to get to us. Find us. Make us pay. On Seth's behalf."

"We can't avoid them forever," Dean agreed.

"So we need to show ourselves to them. Kill the suspense. We can't just run and hide. That's the coward's way out, and we're above that. I'm not afraid of those fuckers. If it's a fight they want, it's a fight they'll get."

Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed them like a madman conjuring up a grand scheme to take over the world. "I like that. But how're we going to win against them? We're two guys against the whole fucking Authority. And I bet you anything Seth went crawling back to them begging for forgiveness as soon as he was caught, so we have that going against us, too."

"That could be true." Roman clenched the curtain tight at the thought. "In fact, I'd bet on it."

"Wait. Roman. I've got it. We need leverage."

Roman faced Dean. "Leverage?"

"Yeah. It's what they've used on us since day one. Something against the adversary. A reason to make you fold, back down. It's dirty, but it's the only way we can get to them. Have something on them they can't ignore." His voice went Don Corleone: " _Make them an offer they can't refuse_."

Roman smiled. All these cute little quirks Dean had paved the road to Roman falling in love with him. "What sort of leverage do you think would be effective against Triple H and Steph…"

Dean had to think about it, too. It wasn't easy coming up with a solution. Roman kept watching the snow fall. To someone without a coat, the snow was bitter, nasty, cold slush that caused car wrecks and frostbite. To someone with a coat, it was beautiful, tranquil, perfection, a unique creation of nature to catch on your tongue while holding the hand of a loved one.

Winds rattled, but if you had a coat, you could bear it.

It was all a matter of having an advantage.

Advantage…

Roman had an idea. "Got it," he announced.

"Damn, you're good," Dean said. He folded his arms and watched Roman scroll through his contacts until he pulled up Seth's number.

"You ready?" Roman asked.

"Ready for it to be over," Dean said. "Yeah."

Steph answered after two short rings.

"Roman, darling. Where've you been?"

He'd almost forgotten how much she irritated him. "Just planning out what I'm gonna say at Kane's funeral," Roman answered. "What do you think of this: 'Here lies a rotten rogue who finally gets to meet his role model and hero, Satan, as he burns in hell for eternity'?"

"You three _really_ fucked up recently." She'd completely ignored his quip. "It started with Seth, who couldn't fight his way out of a wet bag, and ended with all three members of the Shield _banding together_ in a cute little _fight for justice_ and leaving Kane near-dead in some office park. And now? All three of you are going to pay."

The way she spoke made it sound like the Authority hadn't taken Seth back even after punishing him for his turn. "Where's Seth, Stephanie?"

"His babysitter's looking after him."

Babysitter? Fuck, who _else_ was in on this? "Listen, McMahon. We want Seth back."

Naturally, Steph's response was lightened laughter. "Did you hear that, Rollins? Your brothers are pleading your case." So Seth was there. Hearing all of this. He was alive. Good. "And, pray tell, why should I just _give_ him back to you?"

"We have something you want."

Steph clicked her tongue. "And what's that?"

"Our contracts. Mine and Dean's."

Silence. _Gotcha, bitch_. Roman grinned ear to ear.

"I'm sorry, your…contracts?"

"That's right. Here's my proposal, Steph, and make sure Triple H gets every word of this through his thick skull, too, so there's no miscommunication. We want a match. Not just any match, but a three-on-three brawl. The Shield versus whoever you fuckers decide to put against us."

Another pause. Roman swore he heard her biting a fingernail. "Are you being serious right now, Reigns?"

"Bitch, do I sound like I'm fucking joking?" Roman fought to control his temper. He didn't want Seth taking any cheap shots as a result of his misbehavior. "Three-on-three. You can make up the rules as you please. If we win, we get Seth back, the Shield reunites, and you leave us the fuck alone. And if we lose," he blurted, knowing Steph was about to ask for her own amusement. "We're out. You get mine and Dean's contracts, and you do what you want with us. You'll probably choose to terminate us. Ban us from the WWE. Forever. But, I mean, it's your call."

"What about Seth's contract?"

"If he wants in on the deal. He'd be taking part, after all, so he should get to choose what he does with his own contract."

He heard Steph mumble, "Did you get all of that?" Her voice sounded off. Roman assumed he'd been put on Speaker phone so Triple H could hear everything.

"We have a deal, Steph?" Roman asked.

"Fine, Roman. You'll have your match. How soon shall this go down?"

"I'm sure you can rack up a few fighters and pick a location in no time. Long as you give us time to actually _get_ there."

"Are you still in the state? Or have you fled like mice?"

"We're still here in Colorado."

"World Arena, then. _Tonight_. Five o'clock. Don't be late. We'll have _everything_ ready for you."

" _Great_. I'm looking _forward_ to it." Why did she have to emphasize her words like that? It didn't make sense in her speech half the time.

"See you tonight, _boys_."

The call ended.

"Roman, are you sure about this?" Dean asked, crooking his head.

"As sure as I've been of anything," Roman assured. "Think about it, Dean. Imagine wrestling without the Authority always breathing down our necks. The chance to not only work hard, but work hard knowing it's going to _go_ somewhere. They won't be able to hold us back. Constantly screw us over."

"I get that, sure. It sounds like the best thing in the world. But look at us. Are we really gonna be able to fight in our conditions?"

Roman smiled softly. "I've seen the Lunatic Fringe show up in the back of an ambulance to face Bray Wyatt with a neck injury. I've seen him—unfortunately—get curb-stomped through a pile of cinder blocks by Seth Rollins on Raw, and not only _refuse_ medical treatment, but friggin' _disappear_ from the WWE medical personnel altogether. And I just watched you take on Kane, the Devil's Favorite Demon, with _two_ severe foot injuries." Roman raised his hand to Dean's shoulder. "I have faith in you, Dean. I have faith in _us_. I know we can do this."

Dean shook his head to agree, with some hesitation Roman caught onto. "It's just that…man, seeing Bray Wyatt lay into you like that…that was really…terrifying." Dean never liked to admit when he was afraid. This was taking a mass of courage. He veered his head to look into Roman's eyes. His eyes brimmed with tears. "I can handle whatever these bastards hit me with in the ring. But I don't think I can handle watching you get all fucked up like that again…"

"Listen to me," Roman said, now taking both of Dean's shoulders in a comforting grip. "Nothing's going to happen to me. I was ambushed by Bray Wyatt. He played dirty. He fought cheap. The Authority? Maybe we can expect some tricks from them, but you, me, Seth, we're going to destroy them. We've dealt with these fuckers before. We know what they're all about. I'm not going to let anything happen to me. And I swear to you, I'm not going to let _anything_ happen to you, either. You're too important to me, and I wouldn't be able to stand watching you suffer again like that…"

He ran his hand down Dean's arm, taking Dean's hand into his own, lifting it to his lips as they spoke the truth that rattled him.

"I can't lose you."

"You won't," Dean said. He licked his lips. They looked delicious. "You never will."


	8. Chapter 8

Seth was impressed with Stephanie in spite of his abhorrence for the bitch.

Roman had said everything she'd wanted to hear before she herself knew she wanted to hear it. She was a businesswoman and loved professional organization, especially if one in particular potentially meant the end of three of the company's wrestlers. In the eight or so hours since hearing from Roman, she'd devised the perfect match for them to participate in. Not that Seth had watched much of the setup. Triple H and Steph kept him locked in a maintenance closet for most of the day, guarded by his combatant Brock Lesnar. But when Brock opened up the door and dragged him back to the main arena, he perceived all Steph and Triple H had done.

The type of match they'd decided on was an Elimination Chamber. Surrounding the ring where hours ago he'd woken up was a large steel-fenced cage, supported by girders. The technical "Elimination Chamber" was a circular chain-linked structure that enclosed the ring. Within the Elimination Chamber, facing the outside of each ring post behind each ring corner, were four enclosures: the inner chambers. Cages within a cage. Steph must have called forth the assistance of her business partners, the WWE producers, to set this up in what could otherwise be assumed as a private match, possibly for practice. Nobody would think twice about what would really go down here tonight.

Seth still couldn't believe this was what Roman had suggested…he wasn't surprised at all that Steph had agreed to it, of course, but what was _Roman_ thinking? Seth would be fine, he hoped, but Dean and Roman were in no condition to fight again so soon.

Were they?

With the assembly of the cages, the Authority had somewhere new to stash Seth until the match. Jamie Noble and Joey Mercury opened up one of the doors and pushed him inside, without a word. He'd even lost the respect of two people he actually considered friends.

"How long 'til the boys get here, Stephanie?"

"Ten minutes, if they're punctual," Steph answered, glancing down at her phone. She wandered in Seth's direction and stared at him through the iron bars. Her smile was sweet and sick, like honey tainted with arsenic.

"Can't believe they'd even want you back. We certainly don't," she said. "But that was always the downfall of the Shield—the precious little bond between the brothers."

"They're gonna destroy you," Seth said, gnashing his teeth. "You ever try keeping Roman Reigns down for long? It ain't easy, lemme tell you."

"These pods are able to sustain a great amount of force," Triple H commented. To somehow prove his point, he knocked his fist against the metal. "Even the Big Dog will have trouble breaking out of this one."

Jamie hoisted himself onto the ring and jogged towards the Authority's leaders. Reigns and Ambrose are here. Joey saw 'em in the parking lot."

"Meet them out front and bring them in," Triple H commanded. "Pat them down. Make sure they don't have any contraband."

Boy, was Jamie a coward. He nodded to his master and scampered off as quickly as he'd arrived. _Was he this measly when he worked for me_?

Seth wasn't afraid of Triple H. He wasn't afraid of Steph, J&J, or even Kane. It was that goddamn Brock Lesnar he feared beyond belief. Seth knew for a fact he was one of the three opponents Steph had selected for the Shield to face. He wondered about the other two. Who could they have called to this place in such a short amount of time? Who'd be willing?

Jamie reentered a side door, propped open by Joey, followed by Dean and Roman. Behind them was Joey, most likely assuming the two would be stupid enough to try to run and he was in charge of preventing such a venture. They weren't going anywhere.

The security team led Roman and Dean towards the ring, pausing front and center, Jamie standing on the far right and Joey on the left, Roman next to Jamie and Dean next to Joey. Seth pressed against the plexiglass and looked out to them. Roman's eyes lifted to Seth. His look read _Are you alright_?

Seth shrugged. _I'll be fine_.

 _Hang in there_.

"Welcome, boys," Stephanie said, still in the ring with Triple H. She clasped her hands in front of her. "Long time, no see."

"Elimination chamber, Steph?" Roman asked. "Seriously?"

Steph looked indifferent. "Could be worse. I could have authorized a handicap match and forced you to watch one of your brothers take on my three men alone."

Seth nearly scoffed at the word _brothers_. Sure, maybe he was a brother to Roman, Roman to him, but she must have still been unaware of the tension between Dean and Roman. Their true emotions for one another. That was better news for the boys. If she knew Roman was in love with Ambrose, or Dean was in love with Reigns, the circumstances could have been much, much worse.

"You like it, boys?" Triple H asked. He spread his arms out wide, motioning towards his and Steph's creation, of which they seemed incredibly proud. "Devised it ourselves, with some help. This is going to feel as real as possible. A real match. Real time. Real consequences for the winners and losers."

"Yeah, we got that," Roman said. Seth wondered if Roman doubted talk of an "authentic" match as much as he did. The Authority wasn't known for playing fair.

"Come on up, boys," Stephanie said, waving a welcoming arm.

Roman and Dean exchanged looks. An impatient Joey thumped Dean on the shoulder to prod him forward. Dean spun around and swung an arm at him, but Roman held him back. "Come on," Seth saw Roman mouth. Triple H held the door of the chamber open, and Dean and Roman cleared past him onto the ring.

"How's your arm healing up, Reigns?" Steph asked. "Does it still hurt?"

"Go to hell, Steph."

"What about you, Dean? Are you able to walk okay?"

"Sure, I can, and I can also put my foot right up your ass, watch—"

Roman held him back again.

Dean led the couple up to the pod where Seth was incarcerated. He lifted his hand to touch the plexiglass.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Fine," Seth answered. "Ready for this bullshit to be over."

"You and me both, man."

Seth jumped when a suddenly song boomed through the open auditorium. It was Roman's theme, followed by a female's voice from the speakers, obviously a recording and not a visible woman holding up a microphone: "Here they are, a combined weight of seven-hundred and seventy-nine pounds: Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose, The SHIELD!"

Nobody clapped for them. The Shield members glanced around the area, checking for their forthcoming competition. Seth didn't get to join Dean and Roman The Authority left him stuck in the pod. Roman's fingers moved in and out of fist-form as he prepared himself. Dean looked ready to just whip somebody's ass.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen…their first opponent!"

The music changed.  
"WEEELLLL, IT'S THE BIG SHOOOOW!"

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," Seth said as Big Show emerged at the front of the arena. He took slow, powerful strides towards the ring. How in the hell had the Authority managed to schedule him for this on such short notice?

Big Show stared Dean and Roman down as he entered the ring, then ambled towards Seth. Seth straightened his posture and looked straight (up) into Big Show's eyes. Big Show just grinned, then suddenly slammed his hands against the pod, making Seth flinch.

"Boo," he hollered, then laughed heartily.

Brock Lesnar's theme blared next. This didn't surprise Seth, but Dean and Roman stared forward with incredulity. _Yeah, sorry about this one, guys. He doesn't even hate you—he just hates me_. Seth watched Brock Lesnar stroll up to the ring, make eyes with his brothers, turn that menacing glare onto him, then stand next to Big Show.

 _Two out of three_ , Seth thought. _Last but not least_ … He wondered who it could be.

He didn't have to wonder for long.

When creepy, satanic organ music rattled the room next, Seth closed his eyes. _Fuck_ , he thought. _Kane. Haven't seen him all day…well, except for that one time he attacked me before I blacked out. Probably hasn't forgiven me quite yet_. He frowned, then glowered. He felt violent. _Bring it on, Kane_.

Kane was smiling again. Seth loathed Kane's smile even more than his frightening glare. He was smiling at Dean, smiling at Roman. He didn't even look Seth's way. Perhaps he thought Seth was getting enough from Brock Lesnar. If Seth faced him. He knew he would. The Authority loved rigging that type of shit, pinning Seth against the Beast Incarnate. They got off on it as much as they did business deals. Seth knew they were in absolute heaven right now.

The three villains peered down at their opponents, who showed no signs of fear. Maybe some pain, a touch of discomfort, but no, neither Roman nor Dean were afraid of these guys. Steph and Triple H stepped between them. Stephanie was beaming.

"Here's how this is going to work," she said, voice carrying even without a microphone's aid. "We choose the first two to fight right now. The others will remain in the cages for the duration of the fight. You have four minutes—no more, no less—to either pin your opponent or make him submit. If neither happen by the end of the four minutes, one pod will open, and someone else gets to enter the match. There are points it could be even, and points where we play the numbers game. You win if you're the last man standing, or your team has more surviving members than the other." She flashed a smile as thought to mean the word _surviving_ quite literally. "Are my rules clear?"

"Loud and clear," Dean said. "Bit too loud, actually." He stuck a finger in his ear and gave it a scratch. Seth sniggered. A glare from Triple H wasn't enough to silence it.

"The first to fight are…" Steph paused for dramatic effect, shifting her gaze from the Shield Members to her constructed team. "Dean Ambrose and Kane."


	9. Chapter 9: Elimination Chamber Part 1

Roman Reigns prowled the floor of his enclosure, as little room he had to move around. Of course they'd done this on purpose, of course. Not just Dean going first, but putting Dean up against the man who'd been responsible for his torture just days ago. Fucking Authority. Always finding little ways to completely wreak havoc.

Dean Ambrose wasn't afraid. In fact, he was amused. This was a glorious opportunity for him: the chance to take down his torturer Kane. He'd beaten this asshole plenty of times in the past, including one very, very recent time just days ago with the backing of Roman and Seth. Kane stood no chance. Maybe he thought he had an advantage, thinking Dean wasn't fully recovered. But his mind was always going, baby. And mind over matter played a role in Dean's career as a wrestler. Ignore all pain. All fails, Ambrose reigns.

Seth Rollins hopped on his toes, side to side. He had four minutes until a chance to enter the ring. He wasn't counting on the Authority letting him get into the action right away, but he'd been surprised before. He needed to be ready at any point. Anything could happen here. It all started with Dean and Kane.

Steph had even managed to get a referee to observe the match, and the sound effect for a bell. It clangored three times. The official took his stance. The fight was on.

Dean wasted no time getting in. He threw a punch at Kane's face. Kane's neck twisted, but his arm lashed out, his hand clutching Dean's throat. Instead of performing an early Choke Slam, he threw Dean into the ropes and punched him in the stomach, once, twice, three times, then sent his fist into Dean's sternum. Dean collapsed to the ground. Roman growled in his cage.

Kane kicked Dean in the head as he struggled to his feet. When Kane kicked him again, Dean used the force to his advantage, throwing himself back and using the power behind the movement to raise himself up like flying with wings. He landed on two feet. Kane lunged at him again, but Dean was ready. He hurled his arm forward, hitting Kane in the neck. Kane took a step back. Dean seized advantage. He wrapped his arm around Kane's neck. He raised his foot forward, then swiftly kicked it back, the weight of the action pulling him to the ground face-forward and Kane with him. Dirty deeds.

"That's my boy!" Roman said, grinning.

Seth clapped.

Dean pinned Kane, raising his leg to painful levels. The official slammed the mat twice with his hand before Kane kicked out.

"Fuck," Dean said under his breath. He shoved hair from his eyes and spun to his feet. Kane was standing again as well. Dean punched him in the face twice, his mighty right fist following the left. He kicked Kane in the shin, then moved back to launch himself from the ropes, but Kane interfered with his spring forward. He swung his fist, sending Dean to the ground. Kane crawled atop him and grabbed Dean's leg, but it wasn't a pin, not one the ref was calling anyway. Kane locked Dean's left foot underneath his arm and peeled off Dean's shoe, then his dirty white sock. Dean tried to yank out of the tug, but Kane had a strong grip.

 _What the fuck is he doing_? Seth wondered. Once more his wondering didn't last longer than a second. Kane's long nails dug into Dean's fresh surgical patch. Blood surged to the surface of the now-open wound. Dean screamed, pounded the mat with his fist.

"You tapping?" the ref asked, squatting to Dean's level.

"NO!" Dean screamed, shaking his head, hair flying. He let out another wordless cry of pain as Kane jabbed his foot, massaging the bleeding area.

What a sadistic way to compel him to tap out.

And it was happening just inches away from Roman's cage.

Roman pounded his hands against the glass and snarled. He knew doing so wouldn't distract Kane or get him to stop, but he couldn't help it. The beast within him was showing up. Kane was drawing it out effortlessly. Aware of that prosperity, Kane glanced up at Roman and smiled. Prodded Dean aggressively again, extracting another howl. He was doing it on purpose. To torture Roman, he could simply torture Dean.

Roman rammed a fist into the glass again. "GET OUT OF THERE, DEAN!" he screamed. He blinked back pricking tears. Wrath consumed him, wrath blended with panic. Dean was suffering, suffering badly, and Roman couldn't bear to watch. Dean had to escape. "GET OUT! YOU HAVE TO FIGHT!"

Dean decided to use the only functional body part left in his position—his other leg. He drew it against his body, then lobbed it back. He'd successfully kicked Kane in the cranium. Kane released him. Dean crawled away as fast as he could, his limp, bleeding foot following behind, drawing a streak of blood across the mat. He raised himself, staggering, to his right foot.

"Yeah!" Roman cheered.

"There ya go!" Seth hollered.

He let himself rest in the corner until Kane recovered from that blow and charged at him again.

 _Oh this is going to hurt but it needs to happen_ —

Dean kicked Kane again, this time with his bloodied foot. Kane cried out as Dean's blood stung his eyes, the force of the kick damaging his nose. Dean linked his arms around the ropes behind him, taking the opportunity to rest again. His idea had worked but he was paying for it. His foot burned like fire…like he was undergoing Kane's torture again. How much time was left?

He got his answer when Kane lunged at him, destroying his contact with the ropes, and tossed him into the metal walls of the chamber just as Steph called out, "Three, two, one."

Dean rolled onto his side.

A bell rang, and a pod opened.

It was Big Show's.

"Dammit," Roman said under his breath, huffing. He strode about the flooring, shaking like mad. Now it _was_ a handicap match, at least for the next four minutes. The longest two-hundred and forty seconds Roman imagined he'd ever experience.

Sure enough, Kane and Big Show were quick to gang up on Dean. Dean swung a punch towards Kane, but Kane caught his arm in the air and twisted it, forcing Dean to turn around and face forward. Big Show prepared to hit him while Kane held onto him. Dean jumped in the air and kicked Big Show back with both feet. His pain was evident, smeared on his face like the blood on the mat. When Dean landed, he struggled and strived to flip Kane over, but he didn't have enough strength. Kane instead used Dean's attempted move against him, locking his arms around both of Dean's and flipping Dean over his head. Dean's back hit the mat with a _thud_. Seth watched on, hearing himself groan and grunt as he pressed against the plexiglass, as though he could enter the match faster if he just pushed hard enough. Get to Dean if he could shatter this unpolished crystal.

Roman was experiencing his own personal hell. The Samoan was conflicted about which he felt more: the fright or the fury. Neither felt good, and both at once was a miserable brew. A lethal brew.

"Get up, Dean," he whispered. "Come on."

Dean had trouble doing so. Kane probably could have pinned him at that point, but he'd chosen not to. Roman wasn't even surprised. Keep it going, continue to punish Dean, make him suffer, make Roman suffer _for_ him. Instead of pinning, Kane kicked him in the back, causing his body to jerk and flop, then kicked his neck, making him curl into a ball, gripping the back of his neck tight. His face was a painting of torment and Kane was a master artist. But Big Show wanted in on the action, too. Maybe he didn't know what this meant to Kane, but Kane was still willing to share his toy.

Big Show hoisted Dean up over his shoulder, but Dean wriggled out of it, landed on his feet behind the monster. He tried to put more weight on the right, but the left still shot a jolt of pain through his body upon impact. Dean fought through it, targeted Big Show's knees from behind. Big Show lost his balance, falling onto his beefy knees, close to the ropes. Dean scurried up Big Show's body like a squirrel up a tree and, balancing his feet on the middle ropes, wrapped an arm around Big Show's neck and sent blow after blow into the side of his head.

 _He's such a fucking trooper_ , Seth thought. _Bleeding like a stuck friggin' pig and still going to town on that skyscraper_.

When the pressure on his feet got to be unbearable, Dean hopped down from the ropes, readying to use his good foot to kick Big Show in the ribs when Kane reentered the brawl. He took Dean in a chokehold and slammed him into the ground. Dean's legs naturally bounced into the air amidst the collision. Kane was ready for it. He grabbed hold of Dean's right foot and started fumbling with Dean's other shoe.

If both of Dean's worst spots were targeted, Dean didn't stand a chance against these two.

Dean was aware of this. He flailed and wrenched and heaved against Kane's clutch. Tried using his sanguinary foot to strike Kane, but the only place he could really hit was Kane's arm, and of course that did little to deter the Devil's Favorite Demon.

To make matters worse, Big Show was recovered and back in action. He crushed Dean's neck to the ground under his mighty step, thrusting his cheekbone into the mat. Then he grabbed Dean's arm and yanked it backwards, a near 270-degree angle from its natural resting spot at his side. Dean was groaning and gasping, letting out angry shouts of frustration, but the pain was real, so real, and all he wanted was for it to be over.

The worst factor of the assault was the way Dean was facing. Opening his eyes, he could see nothing but Roman staring back at him, his own eyes bleak, the color in his face gone, his entire figure consumed in hysteria. There was no anger left. Only fear. He couldn't hammer the glass like a child throwing a tantrum; only in despair as he badly so badly tried to get to his Dean Ambrose. He didn't blubber, he didn't wail, he didn't snivel or whimper or whine. Very few tears discharged from his eyes, for what the situation was. Almost all of his pain, Roman was able to keep inside. It was a gift. But this? Watching Kane and Big Show demolish Dean Ambrose, _his_ Dean Ambrose? This was persecution. Breaking him slowly. Kane was starving for their desolation, his and Dean's.

If the end didn't come soon, Roman saw himself completely losing it. He couldn't take this much longer. Not being able to protect Dean, especially in this state, this horror-movie synopsis, was Roman Reigns's greatest nightmare alive in front of him. He was seriously considering begging Kane to stop. He'd fall to his knees if he had to, clasp his hands like he was praying. Just don't hurt him anymore, please, he is my whole world…

But Kane thrived on it. He'd never listen, Roman knew it, and Kane knew Roman knew it. Dean's foot wobbled in his fixed hold. He gripped it even tighter. The shoe was half off, dangling from Dean's toes. Next came the sock, and then…

Seth, meanwhile, was giving every level of hell to this damn plexiglass. He rammed his figure, shoulder-first, against the barrier again and again and again. He had intentions. _Break, you fucking piece of shit, break. Come on, be some Chinese, knockoff, cheap-ass piece of shit, please, it's gotta give at some point, gotta give…_

"Hey!" Stephanie barked when she caught him. "Cut that shit out, Rollins."

Oh, of course she was aware of the wrinkle in the Elimination Chamber rules, stating that if the plexiglass holding the pods of suspended wrestlers was destroyed, they could enter the ring without waiting for the time to expire, and even enter out of turn. Not that he thought Steph would completely oblige to that particular loophole, if he did somehow manage to smash this fucking glass…

Worth a shot, though.

He didn't get his chance quite yet. Steph counted down from three to one, seeming to take her time. Even after she announced the end of the four minutes, neither Kane nor Big Show let up. Big Show yanked his arm again, nearly dislocating it. Just a few more tugs and Dean's arm would be completely separate from his body. Kane widened his hand and gave Dean's foot a hard smack. Dean yelped. Their time was over and they refused to stop hurting him.

Seth's pod opened up.

They'd pay for it.


	10. Chapter 10: Elimination Chamber Part 2

Seth charged at Big Show with a warrior's cry and charged arm. He nailed Big Show in the soft area between his shoulder and neck, and Big Show fell back against the ropes. Seth let the impact bounce Big Show right back into his waiting arms, and he spun Big Show around so he was facing the ropes, Seth was facing the other way, tossed Big Show's right arm over his left shoulder, and drove him downwards, forcing a collision between Big Show's neck and the middle rope. Seth tried to pin Big Show after the fall, but he kicked out at two and a half counts. At least he was off Dean. Half a problem solved.

A surge of relief set Roman back into a more stable mind, but not completely sound. Not completely comforted. Kane was still clouting Dean's bare right foot. He readied a pointer finger like a drill and twisted it into Dean's vulnerable, inflamed sole. Dean hollered loud. Roman growled, whacking the glass, sensible enough to be angry again. Seth abandoned Big Show for now and charged Kane next with an attempted clothesline. Seth's body absorbed more of the crash than Kane's did, but it was enough of a diversion for Dean to finally kick out of Kane's grip. Seth landed against the ropes facing out, and Dean squirmed away from Kane. His right foot was exuding blood, but not nearly as much as his left foot had been. A pounding heart and consistently rushed blood flow didn't help constrain the blood's course altogether. He hoped he wouldn't lose enough to make him pass out.

Kane's eyes drilled into Seth's. Good. Seth might have been a bit anxious now, but better him get beat on a little than Dean any longer. Kane lunged at Seth. Seth ducked out of the way, and Kane's body knocked into the ropes. Seth took it a step further and used his foot to shove Kane further down, further forward, until Kane's upper half was caught on the ropes. Seth pulled out a move he hadn't done in ages, what the world had dubbed "Peace of Mind." A running stomp to the back of Kane's head. Kane's figure spazzed at the blow, and he slumped from the ropes to face-flat on the mat. Seth perched himself on Kane's back and used one arm to loop around his leg, the other to wind around Kane's neck. Seth brought both of his arms close in for a painful pull. He could hear Kane groaning. He pulled further, closer. He wanted Kane to scream like Dean had under his (lack of) mercy.

"SETH!" Roman called, having to yell so Seth could hear him past the thick plexiglass. Seth's head whipped up. Roman's entire face was glistening with sweat. His hair was in knots.

"Save him for me," Roman requested. "Go get Dean."

Seth looked back towards Dean. Big Show had him cornered. Dean tucked his chin into his chest to protect himself from Big Show's relentless blows.

Seth gave Kane one last painful tug, then bounced to his feet. He made a quick stop near Roman's cage. "Listen. If you manage to break the glass, they have to let you fight. Even if the time's not up and it ain't your turn."

Roman knocked his hair from his face to behind his shoulder. "Shit, really? Awesome."

"Now I'm going." Seth charged up his run and stampeded towards Big Show. He leaped up and came down onto Big Show with an elbow to the upper back. Big Show, stupefied, staggered forward into the corner of the ring. Dean spun out of the way before Big Show crushed him. Seth leaped up again and kicked Big Show's big head in. His skull smacked against the corner post. Seth wasn't done. He coiled his arms around Big Show's neck from behind and squeezed tight. Dean had gained some capacity back. Seth drew Big Show's body back so the World's Biggest Athlete was facing up, toes pointed towards the ceiling. He refused to let go of his chokehold. Dean went to work on Big Show, kicking him with his less-injured foot in the ribcage, the side, the stomach. Seth thought at long last the Shield had an advantage on—what did Steph call her team? The Fuglies? Seth was going with that—the Fuglies until he felt Kane behind him again. He caught onto Roman screaming his name, warning him, the same time he sensed the presence. Seth whirled around. Kane caught him in a tight grip to the throat. With his other arm he drew back and clocked Seth in the jaw. Seth soared sideways, smacking against the mat.

Kane loomed over Seth. He pressed his foot into Seth's spine, then scooped down and took hold of Seth's wrist. He drew it back in an aching haul. Seth cried out, but there wasn't much he could do to defend against the attack except wave his right arm around.

Big Show wasn't going anywhere. Dean rushed towards Kane, sinking bloody footprints into the mat with every step. He booted Kane in the neck, closer to his head than the tip of his spine, aiming to disorient him. Maybe make him black out. He did have some sort of effect as Kane collapsed beside Seth. But the move had a negative repercussion as Dean fell onto his own back. Pain governed him, every single inch of his body. As Kane convulsed on the ground, Seth spared a moment to kneel beside his brother.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Hurts," Dean said through a laugh. A fucking laugh in spite of all this misery. He really was insane, or else the pain was getting him to that stage real quick. Dean stuck his tongue out. "Hurts like hell." He laughed again.

"Come on, crazy," Seth said, extending a hand for Dean.

"THREE, TWO, ONE!" Steph cried from the sidelines. Seth's eyes rolled. That sure didn't feel like four minutes. The last period of the match had felt twice as long.

Brock Lesnar stormed out of his open pod.

"Are you kidding me!?" Seth screamed.

 _Dammit!_ Roman thought, slugging the glass with a fist. _It's like they don't want me in at all. They want to keep me locked up the entire time_ …

Roman stopped that thought in place. Wait. Could that be true?

He wasn't gloating inwardly when he considered the fact he was strong, perhaps a bit stronger than Dean and Seth. Perhaps the Authority's plan all along was to keep Roman out for as long as possible. If the baddies managed to pin Dean and Seth or get them to submit, they'd automatically win. Roman wouldn't have to step into the ring at all.

In Dean's condition, with the enemy on a power play, that seemed very possible.

If Seth was forced out of the match before Kane, Big Show or Brock, Dean was fucking screwed. If Dean got pinned or caved to the pain and tapped out, Seth had no defense—at least for the next four minutes—against three monsters.

Roman had to get out of here. It was the only way to promote his team's victory, and ensure Dean and Seth's safety.

Was Seth right about the plexiglass gap in the rules? If it broke, was he in the match automatically?

If it broke, he was in whether or not the rules said he was. No words on a piece of paper or a virtual document were going to stop him from pulverizing each member on the Authority's team if he escaped this pen. Kane especially. Roman felt ready to commit his second murder of the week with that heartless bastard.

He assaulted the glass like his life depended on it. No, change the thought—like Dean's life depended on it. More likely than not, it did. It fueled his hits even further.

Seth knew even before looking at Brock that he was coming for Seth. Protecting Dean was his priority, but it was going to be trickier now. Seth refused to lose faith in himself, in his partner. Whatever Brock had planned, Seth needed to counter it quickly and get back to Dean.

He charged at Brock. Seth raised his foot to kick Brock in the skull, but Brock ducked, and Seth's leg went right over him. As he turned around, Brock grabbed Seth around the waist and lifted him into the air as easy as a baby raising a rattle. Brock tossed Seth over him in a suplex. Goddamn Suplex City motherfucker. Seth hit the ground, but bounced up as quickly as he'd fallen. _Not today, Brock. You ain't keeping me down with your stupid hometown of Suplex City_. He wheeled back onto his feet. From the corner of his eye he saw Dean scaling the ropes. He flung himself from the top, tackled Big Show to the ground. With phenomenal strength he thrusted his arm underneath Big Show's and essentially walked him towards the ropes. Dean rammed his fist into Big Show's jaw, and his figure landed against the ropes.

 _Oh, this is it_ , Seth realized. He kicked Brock Lesnar in the throat to give himself a couple minutes. Then he rushed towards Big Show like a brute. For the second time in the match he pulled off a Peace of Mind. A Curb Stomp. Big Show collapsed to the mat. Seth was immediately atop him, yanking his leg back. Pinning him.

The ref seemed to take his sweet-ass time with the count, but Seth was brutal and unabating. He held Big Show there until the official's hand pounded against the mat for a third time. A bell tolled.

"YES!" Roman cheered, pounding his fist into the air. "YES!"

Big Show wasn't moving much. The consistent blows to his head must have finally gotten to him. Steph, scarlet with red, commanded him to leave the ring. There was no arguing. Dean and Seth had worked as a team and eliminated him from the chamber. Two to go.

One of the two was moving on with the match already, even before Big Show dragged himself off the mat. Kane took both Seth and Dean into chokeholds from behind. He crushed down on their windpipes, lifting both boys into the air, then catapulting them out of the ring, past the ropes and into the metal skeleton of the Elimination Chamber. The metal rattled loudly and shook under the weight, and both Dean and Seth hit the floor.

Roman watched from his corner as Kane hopped over the ropes and approached them. Brock Lesnar stayed in the ring, as if instructed to do so, watching, ready for another assault. Brock grabbed hold of Seth and tossed him back over the ropes, in Brock's vicinity. As if to say _take care of this one. Ambrose is all mine_.

Dean tried to stand, but his energy was still healing. Kane stepped on the small of Dean's back, took hold of both of his arms, and pulled up and back. The same position he'd held Roman in when forcing him to watch Seth—almost—kill Dean.

The ref was prattling on, something about Kane having to pin Dean within the ring, but the idiot must not have known by now that Kane's plan was to break Dean in half, not eliminate him by pinfall. He stepped harder into Dean and yanked his arms again until he heard a pop. Dean screamed.

Roman rocketed against the glass. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" he screamed. Made a fist, pounded the glass again. And again. And again. Desperate. Determined. A forest fire ready to burn an entire state down. A hornet who'd been confined for too long, ready to sting the creature that had entrapped him.

Kane couldn't resist. Without failing to stare at Roman the entire time, send that smile his way, he lifted Dean onto his maimed feet. Draped the right arm, most likely broken or dislocated at the very least, around Kane's shoulder. He walked Dean like a dog towards Roman's cage, standing just inches away from the seething Samoan. Dean forced his eyes open. He looked drunk out of his mind, drunk on pain. Roman pressed deeply against the glass. _Gotta get out gotta get OUT GOTTA GET OUT_!

Kane gently set Dean onto his feet. Dean struggled to stay standing on his own. Kane hopped up and kicked Dean's skull into the glass. Dean's head smacked against Roman's prison, and he dropped to the floor. Kane lifted him up again, then tossed Dean's entire physique into the glass.

Through it.

The glass cracked on impact. None of Dean's body parts had penetrated the glass, so he avoided cuts and further injuries, but finally, _finally_ , thanks to Kane's impulse to gloat, Roman had an opening.

"Dean, move!" Roman shouted. "Move, move, move!"

Dean didn't hesitate long. He used his left arm to pull the rest of his weight, creep out of the way. Kane tried to follow, but Roman was charged. Ready to strike like lightning. He threw his arms back and head up, let out his signature roar, then Superman-punched right through the glass. He ignored the bite of glass, the sting of countless lacerations he'd just given himself, and speared into Kane.

Steph seemed shocked, but she didn't say anything. She _must_ have been aware of the loophole after all. And if the boys were aware of it, calling Roman out on breaking the glass would have only gotten them winning arguments about the rules. Putting her in her place. She bit down on a thumbnail and kept watching.

"YOU'RE MINE, KANE!" Roman bellowed.


	11. Chapter 11: Elimination Chamber Part 3

Roman Reigns unleashed a volcano of emotions onto Kane. He sent his first flying into the sides of Kane's heads, then sent five quick jabs to the demon's throat. If his trachea happened to break under these hits, oh well. So be it. Kane wasn't having it, though. He lifted his legs and kicked Roman off him. Roman landed on his feet, refusing to fall. He grabbed the back of Kane's head, kicked him in the gut twice, then attempted to thrust Kane's skull into the pole. Kane countered before the attack and knocked his fist into Roman's jaw. Roman responded with even more hits to Kane's jaw. He wanted the thing to come fucking unhinged. The ref screamed for them to get back in the ring, but neither of them gave a shit about rules. They only cared about ending each other.

Dean was working to slowly pull himself back onto the mat. Pain was such an inconvenience. He couldn't go down like this, not like this, not now. He needed to be there for his brothers.

Seth was grappling with Brock Lesnar in the meantime. Brock charged forward without warning, running Seth against the ropes. He took a few steps back and stormed ahead again while Seth clung to the ropes, dazed by the attack, and nailed Seth with a running knee attack. Brock yanked Seth forward by his right arm and knocked him to the floor with a foot to the throat. Brock darted atop the ropes to jump onto Seth, but Seth wisely rolled out of the way to avoid the impact. Brock returned to the floor of the ring.

He tried to corner Seth, but Seth took hold of his huge muscular body and rammed him into the pole in the corner. Brock's head struck the top of the pole, and he crumpled to the floor.

Seth was coughing and choking, rubbing his neck, still suffering from previous hit. While Brock was still recovering on the floor, Seth darted to the outside and scrambled up the ropes, carefully balancing his feet on the ring's edge. As he prepared to leap, Brock got up and kicked Seth in the ankle. The impact forced Seth downward, and his knee rattled against the pole. The impact had hit a nerve and Seth's entire leg was on fire in a second. Obviously in pain, but he refused to let go of the ropes, clinging to them as though they were a life raft upon rickety seawaters. Brock ascended to Seth's level, opposite him, forced Seth's arm over his neck, and looped his own arms around Seth's thighs in an attempt to throw him off. Still, Seth refused to release his lifeline of a grip on the ropes. Brock hopped off, took hold of Seth's freshly-injured leg, and yanked it forward. The pain was too much. Seth had no choice but to let go. Brock dragged Seth by the leg until all of Seth was back in the ring except for his head, which still dangled out.

Brock crushed Seth's knee underneath his large foot until Seth let out a tiny whimper. Seth tried to flip back to his feet, but Brock took him in a professional fighter's lift and hurled him over the ropes. His knee broke his fall—and potentially broke. He lay in a ball on the floor, holding his knee, his face twisted and contorted. The pain was unbearable.

Brock Lesnar moved to the other side of the ring to gather enough motion and power to jump over the ropes. He charged forward. Seth tried to get back in the ring, ignoring the pain in his leg, but Brock was already there. The impact of the two bodies, one charging and one still, caused Brock to stumble back. Seth thought this was the advantage he was after. He scaled the ropes and jumped, but Brock caught him in the air. He wore Seth like a towel over his shoulders, and he threw him to the ground. He moved to pin Seth Rollins when suddenly Dean came and interrupted his scene.

One arm might have been inept, but that gave his left arm even more power. He clocked Brock in the head running past, then turned and hit the ropes to give himself a little bounce. He came at Brock again, swinging. Brock shifted his attack mode from Seth to Dean. Seth struggled to stand. His kneecap felt broken. It had hit the pole pretty hard, at the perfectly misfortunate angle. At least the pain was subsiding. Now he could hardly feel his leg at all.

Roman decided he needed to get back in the ring, assist his Shield brothers if necessary. But he couldn't leave Kane alone to recover. He hoisted the big guy up by his neck and struggled to heave him between the ropes, back on the mat. Kane suddenly hit Roman in the face, temporarily distracting the Samoan. Kane took Roman's own idea, raised Roman above his head, and pitched him over the top ropes. Roman hit the mat, rolled, and sprung up. He'd traveled right between the line of battle between Brock and Dean. An attack that was meant for Dean suddenly changed targets as Brock grabbed Roman by the waist from behind and drove Roman over his head onto the floor behind them. Suplex City, again. Roman hit the ground and tried to blink away the stars he saw forming on the ceiling. The sight of them was replaced with the very real sight of Brock Lesnar, who lifted Roman up by the shirt, steadied him onto his feet, then kneed Roman in the stomach.

Dean jumped atop Brock's back, wrapping his good arm around his throat like a child getting a piggyback ride from his father. Brock grabbed Dean and tried to throw him off, but Dean braced for the fall and landed on his feet instead. He disregarded his own agony and powerhouse-kicked Brock in the face. Brock stunned as though sedated.

Dean took a couple of seconds to check on Seth. He playfully punched Seth in the arm. "Come on," he said. "We've been waiting for this one."

"Sure you can?" Seth asked, knowing what was on his mind.

"Sure I can. Long as I'm on the correct side."

Together Dean and Seth lifted Brock Lesnar into the air. Seth obviously carried more of Brock's weight on his side, for Dean's sake who only had the power of one mighty arm. Roman howled eagerly and took his place for the Triple Powerbomb.

Roman lifted Brock's legs onto his shoulders, and the three delivered Brock to his a destination outside Suplex City: the Shield Suburbs.

On the ground, Seth did the honors of pinning the Beast. The ref counted—again, so lazily, so slowly, taking his time—but Seth had power. Dominance. Brock wasn't escaping. The ref called "THREE!" out. A bell sounded. Brock was out.

There was little time to celebrate because Kane was in. He wrapped his arm around Dean's neck and drew him back away from Roman and Seth. The position was perfect for a potential neck break. When Seth and Roman tried to move forward, Kane took another step back and tightened his hold on Dean's neck. "I'll do it," he threatened. Dean's one good arm clutched at Kane's arm. He couldn't do much else to get himself out of this. "I'll fucking do it."

Seth balanced on his good leg. Roman stared at Seth. "What now?" he mumbled, fear gripping his heart. He trusted Kane to keep his word. This wasn't about a match at all for Kane. This was about revenge. Winning against the Shield personally, not in some sham Elimination Chamber competition.

He could kill Dean right here and now.

"On the ground," Kane commanded.

Without much of a choice until they'd devised another plan, Roman and Seth watched Kane carefully, both positioning themselves on their knees. Seth bit back a groan of pain as his injury made contact with the hard floor.

"Lower," Kane ordered.

 _No_ , Dean thought. No, no, no, hell no. This wasn't happening again. He was done being a hostage. Leverage against Roman and Seth. He wasn't a damsel in distress, he was Dean fucking Ambrose! The Lunatic Fringe!

And this was his battle!

Dean threw a fist back, powering it with all the strength he could muster. He hit Kane in the nose. It wasn't enough. He needed more power. He kicked his foot back into Kane's shin. Drew back and did it again. And again. Kane's grip was loosening but Dean still wasn't completely free.

Roman and Seth helped with that. They charged forward. Dean ducked down as best as he could just as Roman sent a Superman punch into Kane's face. Kane flew back. Seth kicked him against the ropes. Roman climbed to the other side of the ropes and held Kane's arms while Seth unleashed a wrathful series of kicks and jabs into Kane's stretched upper body. Dean came around to the side and kicked Kane in the head again and again and again. Kane was losing consciousness.

There was only one good way to finish this off.

Seth and Dean grabbed Kane, hoisting him up onto their shoulders. Roman scaled the ropes again, his feet hitting the mat. He readied for the finisher. An angry cry. Meeting up in the middle with Dean and Seth for the throw. Kane's body flying a good several feet before hitting the mat. Good night, Kane.

"Do the honors," Dean said to Roman.

"With pleasure."

There was no point in pinning him, but Roman did so anyway. The ref called out his count slowly. It was over.

The Shield had won.


	12. Chapter 12

Seth stood even with his brothers in a line, to Roman's left with Dean on Roman's other side. Without looking at each other they took the same stance, arms at their sides like superheroes, hands clenched into shaking fists. Outside the ring, Stephanie and Triple H stood staring right back at them, Triple H with his legs spread and hands holding each other in front of him, Steph with her arms crossed.

It was deathly quiet for many moments.

Roman was the first to speak. "We won, Steph. Now about our conditions…"

An angry cry sounded behind him. Kane stood up and tried to lock Roman in a chokehold. Seth and Dean were ready to spring into action yet again when Stephanie barked, "KANE! Drop him. It's over."

Kane oh so unwillingly released Roman with a snarl. He walked towards his associates, shooting daggers at Reigns all the while. Roman rubbed his head, then reclaimed his stance.

"As we said," Roman stated. "The Shield is reunited, and back on the WWE. The Authority still runs the show, obviously, but there won't be anymore interference on your behalf. You and the rest of the heels will back down and leave us alone. And if you _ever_." He thrusted a pointer finger in her direction. "Mess with my family again, we will come after you. And we won't lose."

Steph pursed her lips. She looked completely traumatized at the fact her team had lost; not just lost, but lost without pinning a single Shield member and forcing them from the match.

"Understood," she said with a slow nod.

"Now can you get an ambulance over here? I need to take Dean back to the hospital."

Dean waved a hand. "I'm fine," he tried, but neither Roman nor Seth were convinced. Seth trailed to Dean's other side, and he and Roman each lifted one of Dean's legs into their hold, Dean's arms over both their shoulders, and carried him off the ring and across the arena towards the side door. Nobody tried to stop them.

It was dark and well below freezing outside. Dean asked, voice fading in and out, rising and lowering in pitch, "It's fucking cold."

"My jacket's in the car," Roman said. "You can wear it."

"W-where are we going?" He sounded drunk.

"We're taking you to the hospital."

"I do—don' wanna go t' hospital."

"You have to go, Dean. The doctors need to stitch you back up and treat your arm."

"I do—don' wan'."

"The hell's wrong with him?" Roman asked, looking to Seth.

"He's losing his mind. He's delirious," Seth explained. "Probably has a concussion. We have to keep him awake."

"You hear that, Dean?" They were near the car. Roman fumbled for his key. "Stay awake. Stay with us. We're going to the hospital."

"N-no."

"Yes, Dean."

Dean sighed dramatically. "A-are there—gon', gon' be—cute nurses?"

Roman chuckled. "Yeah, probably." He opened up the back door, and he and Seth gently lowered Dean onto the seat. It was better for him to ride in the back with Seth so Seth could tend to him.

Dean looked up at Roman and grinned. His eyes drooped with exhaustion. "I love you, Roman. I lo' you _so_ muh'." He leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss against Roman's cheek. His condition was worsening, but Roman couldn't help but grin.

"I love you too, Dean. We're leaving now, okay?" Roman gently closed the door.

Seth swathed Dean's bare arms in Roman's big jacket. If he had a jacket, he would have handed it over to Dean in a heartbeat. But Roman probably wouldn't approve. He seemed like he might have been the jealous type. If not jealous, then very protective.

Roman stared up the car. "You good, Seth?"

"I'm good."

"How's your knee?"

"Hurts, but it should heal just fine on its own."

"Not freezing to death back there?"

Seth scoffed. He pushed hair from his face. "What's a little frostbite compared to the shit I just stood up against?" Roman's questions weren't annoying. Seth was glad he cared.

Roman laughed. "I like your attitude, brother."

The word nestled itself into Seth's mind, wrestled with his heart. Brother. Roman had reinstated the Shield tonight, the three of them. He wondered how long it would take for things to return to what they'd been before he'd betrayed Dean and Roman. Maybe the boys would have trouble trusting him at first—but he'd win them back over. Tonight sure helped in his favor. And he swore on everything he'd never let them down again.

Dean and Roman's newfound relationship would probably take more getting used to than the Shield's reformation. Seth couldn't lie. He thought the two were cute together. They made a great couple. Their chemistry made him envious, but he could be happy for them. Besides, they were his brothers. Even if Dean still meant a little more to him than Roman did.

He never did fully understand why that was.

Roman drove carefully through snow and ice to Penrose Hospital, a ten-minute drive that cost them at least half an hour because of the weather. Roman appreciated Seth wanting to help, but carrying Dean himself was a bit faster than the two serving as crutches for him. Plus he liked getting to carry Dean. It felt like the right thing to do.

The hospital was nearly deserted. Dean was rushed into emergency care. They weren't sure how long it would take, but neither of them really cared about the waiting time. Roman looked at Seth and said, "You sticking around?"

"Of course," Seth said. "I wanna be here when he gets out. Plus it's dark, cold, and you're my only ride."

Roman chuckled. God, was he tired. A nap on a couch sounded fantastic right now. The guest waiting area was empty except for an older gentleman asleep in a love seat across the room. Roman dropped onto a long orange couch and slumped into the corner.

Seth brought over two cups of coffee from the complimentary pot on a counter near two vending machines. He stretched the cup towards Roman. Though he would have rather slept away his fatigue rather than battle it with caffeine, he didn't think all the coffee in the world would keep him awake. He took the cup. "Thanks."

"Yeah." Seth took a chair across from the couch and sipped his drink.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. The only sound in the room was _The Colbert Report_ playing on three separate TVs. Roman watched steam rise from his mug. He lifted the cup to his lips and sipped the liquid. The warmth sloshed down his throat and dropped into his stomach in sweet satisfaction.

"You think they'll really leave us alone?" Seth asked.

Roman scoffed. "If they're smart." He took another sip of coffee. It had cooled fast. "Knowing the kind of scum they are, probably not. But we'll be ready for them no matter what."

"Makes me wonder what the network will think of all this."

"Whatever the Authority tells them to think. They run the show, no matter how many producers claim control of everything. I bet you anything nobody around there will ever learn the truth. They'll just hear about the Shield reuniting and lose their minds. Fans'll go nuts. It's good for business, so the Authority shouldn't have a problem with it."

"You're right, they shouldn't. People will eat this up. This'll be a fun opportunity, as long as Kane doesn't bug us anymore."

"Oh, he's a fucking idiot if he does. I swear I'll end him if he comes anywhere near Dean again." Roman caught himself too late, and he stared down into his drink as a blush crept over his cheeks. "And you, and me, of course."

When Roman looked up again, Seth was grinning. He bounced his foot, the one attached to an uninjured leg. "Roman. From now on, we're cutting all the bullshit. I told you, I know how you feel about Dean. It's fine."

Roman shook his head. "If you know, then explain it to me. Every time I try to think about it, my head gets all fuzzy. It's like, I know how I feel, yet I have trouble admitting it, even to myself. I know that sounds kinda stupid."

"No," Seth said, in the most sincere way Roman had ever heard him speak. "It's not stupid, at all. It's being in love. And maybe you feel stupid when you're in love, but you also feel good and shy and silly and like you're walking on a freaking cloud. Is that how you feel?"

"To a T."

"There ya go." Seth drank his coffee.

Roman stared at the floor. "He's my world. I'd give anything for the guy, _do_ anything for him. I hope that doesn't create any tension between us." He locked gazes with Seth again.

Seth waved the issue away. "Don't worry about it. You guys do your thing, and I'll get used to anything that might seem weird at first. And if you wanna keep it a secret from the network, I won't say a word to anyone."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it. But listen, that doesn't change the fact that the Authority can't mess with _any_ of us. Whether they're dumb enough to come after you or Dean or me, they'll pay."

"You bet your ass they will. Nobody obliterates the Shield this time. Not ever again."

It was nice to hear.

Roman must have dozed off at some point, because in his next moment of awareness he felt a bit more refreshed and sunlight was streaming through the bay windows. He sat up, stretched and yawned. The waiting room had a few more guests now, and a morning news show had replaced Stephen Colbert on the TVs. Seth was gone. Roman stood up and cracked his neck. What time was it?

He strolled towards the doors separating the waiting area from a corridor. Seth appeared in the doorway, holding up two white cups. "Oh, you're up," he said. "Good. They're serving breakfast downstairs. Got you some juice." Seth handed him the cup.

Roman smiled. Seth seemed like an entirely different person now. He didn't think it was just an act, not at all. Seth held his trust again. "Thanks. Have you heard anything?"

"I talked to a nurse a few minutes ago. She said Dean's in recovery. We can see him in a little while."

"Good. Did she tell you what all they had to do?"

"Patched up his wounds on his feet, treated him for a dislocated shoulder, sewed up a couple of gashes. Nothing our boy hasn't endured in the past."

"He'll make it out okay."

"Yeah, he's a trooper."

Seth showed Roman the cafeteria downstairs. He poked at some bacon on a paper plate, but he hadn't had much of an appetite recently. He anxiously awaited the moment a nurse tracked them down and said Dean was awake and asking for them.

Dean was in a much better condition than the last time Roman walked into a hospital room and saw him on the bed. His arm was in a black cast fastened to a sling. His feet were wrapped in thick bandages. When Dean saw Roman and Seth, he shoved the sheets off his body and moved to get up, but the nurse shot him a warning look, and he grumbled as he rested in the bed again.

"I told him he _has_ to stay off his feet for at _least_ a week," the nurse said. "Healing might take up to five weeks. I _strongly_ recommend taking it easy in that time. The easier you are on yourself, the faster you'll heal, okay, Mr. Ambrose?"

Dean stuck a thumb in the air. "Got it."

The nurse left them alone.

Roman and Seth sauntered to Dean's bedside. Dean grabbed Roman's hand and pulled him into an awkward but pleasant hug. Roman patted Dean's backside.

"Check it out, man, we're cast buddies!" he said. "No offense, Seth. Though to be fair, you're lucky you're not in this club."

"Hey, I'm just glad you're not worse off," Seth said.

Roman tousled Dean's hair. "How ya feeling?"

"Oh, swell. I could climb a mountain."

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Nah, I can't do much without the nurses breathing down my neck. But give me some time, and I _will_ climb that mountain."

Roman laughed.

"Bet on it, Roman."

"I will." He kissed Dean's forehead. Dean grinned. He lifted himself, pushing into Roman's lips. Roman tasted Dean again and it was good. He was soft, sweet, strong, all at once. But Roman couldn't let the kiss last long in front of Seth. He was the first to break it and pull away.

"Sorry. Just been dying to do that again."

"Same here," Roman admitted.

Seth lingered behind Roman. "Well, if you guys don't mind, I'm gonna go grab a second helping of breakfast. Who knew hospital eggs were so good?"

Roman chuckled. "Alright, Seth."

When he was gone, Dean looked up at Roman and frowned. "I'm sorry I let you down."

"What? Why would you think that?"

Dean shrugged his good shoulder. "I wanted to protect you. Keep you from getting hurt again. But the Authority kinda ruined that plan."

Roman immediately grabbed Dean's hand. "Don't think for a moment you've ever let me down in your entire life. What happened was probably inevitable, but the point is, we won. We were together and we won. That's the way this life goes. You're…well, you're my strength, Dean. You're my shield."

"And you're mine." Dean smiled. "But I swear, dude, nothing like that is ever happening again. You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us."

"That's the rule."

Dean leaned back further into his pillow. "Feels kinda weird being together again, huh?"

"Yeah. But it feels right."

"I'd know a thing or two about that."

Roman smiled.

"Don't ever let go, okay?" Dean asked.

"Never." He kissed Dean again.

"I love you, Dean Ambrose." Their fingers intertwined.

"I love you more, Roman Reigns." Their breath mixed.

"Impossible."

* * *

 **Three Months Later**

Dean's recovery period had been hell. Learning to walk again was such a fucking humiliation, but with the aid of crutches and Seth and Roman, he finally mastered the basic human survival skill once more. Soon he was running again, working out at the gym, and—for the first time in three months tonight—fighting.

The Authority had fed a very broad story to the press and the WWE producers about emergency medical problems with all three "former" Shield members. Separate, of course, having nothing to do with each other. Fans didn't seem to buy it. The network completely ignored it. Other matches were raised higher than Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns as priorities. Theories and suggestions surfaced on the Internet about the Shield reuniting. What a coincidence that all three members had "emergencies" at the same time. Dean didn't doubt the intelligence of the WWE fanbase like the Authority did.

But it didn't matter now. The past was in the past, and Dean Ambrose was ready to face the future head-on. He waited backstage for the Shield's cue music. The audience was going to lose their shit over this one. He stood between Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins. He looked to Seth, who appeared just as ecstatic and anxious about this night as Dean was. He looked to Roman next, who looked cool, calm, collected, reserved in his usual manner. But Dean could read his mind looking at him, here and now. He was ready. Excited. Charged.

Roman turned his head, looked right back at Dean. Dean faced forward, embarrassed to have been caught staring. He felt Roman's hand catch his for just a moment. Roman tickled Dean's wrist, then drew his hand away. Dean grinned. This was good. So good. Perfect.

The music hit. "Sierra! Hotel! India! Echo! Lima! Delta! Shield."

The brothers began their walk.

The boys were back in town.


End file.
